


Seen

by BerylliumTryllium



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: (mostly) Canon Compliant, Almost-but-not-quite loss of virginity, Death and Resurrection, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Intercourse, F/M, Floriography, Frottage, Getting Together, Inexperienced!Snape, Legilimency, Legilimency Sex (Harry Potter), Magical Bondage, Muggle Studies, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Profanity, Relationship with Coworker, Romance, Secret Relationship, Sex Fully Clothed, Slow Burn, Snape/OFC - Freeform, canon character death, engaging in kink without prior negotiation, sex in a public place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:14:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 57,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28683129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BerylliumTryllium/pseuds/BerylliumTryllium
Summary: Decades after his death, Severus Snape is resurrected and forced to rejoin a world which knows his every shameful secret, where he endeavors to make the most of his unexpected New Life in the spotlight. Privacy and decorum become things of the past as a new colleague shakes his desire for shadow by indulging her fantasy of getting caught.This fic was done for SnapeBang2020 and contains lovely art from the multi-talented Tehriel!
Relationships: Severus Snape/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 39
Collections: Snape Bigbang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the amazing [Tehriel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tehriel/pseuds/Tehriel) for their beta work and incredible art for this piece. Also, for teaching me the difference between em and en dashes. You can also find them on [Tumblr.](https://tehriel.tumblr.com/)

Severus’ vision faded as the boy rose and retreated toward to passage leading out of the shrieking shack with Granger’s bottle, now containing proof of his teacher’s most vulnerable moments. It mattered not. His shame and misdeeds would be exercised if the Dark Lord could be vanquished.

The impending death of the boy was regrettable, and only minutes before had seemed a sour end for decades of strife and sacrifice…but as the tunnel of his vision narrowed and the light left the world, a merciful peace rolled through him. The silken veil of death lingered briefly, a featherweight over his sightless eyes.

And then a pure and diffuse light began to creep in ‘round the edges, spreading slowly but insistently until he had to squint into the brightness.

It was sunlight.

There was movement from the left, a shadowy figure emerged. Severus could not focus his eyes to see it, as if they were out of practice from long sleep. The figure glided nearer, and he became aware of his own aching head and limbs. A pervasive migraine, a clamminess spread over his skin under damp clothes.

“Snape, can you hear me?”

The voice was familiar, but he _couldn’t see_ and the pounding burning in the back of his skull wouldn’t permit him focus.

“Snape, it’s Harry. Squeeze my hand if you can hear me.”

Warmth around his fingers, but he couldn’t muster the strength. He blinked, trying to clear his vision and see…Potter? He couldn’t be here, he _had_ to use the blasted _memories_. “Potter?” a horrid rasp which could not have been his voice.

Shapes began to manifest before his tired eyes. The shadow had claimed to be Harry, but the face which swam into view belonged to the _elder_ Potter. James.

Severus recoiled as much as his leaden limbs allowed, which wasn’t much. He thought hysterically, ‘ _Hell. This is hell. I’m in hell, and all I’ve wronged are here to tortured me_.’ He heard himself wheeze and croak pathetically, “’s a trick…”

“No! It’s me, Sir. It’s Harry,” the apparition insisted, but it wasn’t the boy Severus had sent to die. His face was lined. His hair was graying. Severus had thought it was James, but James had not survived long enough to go gray. It was a dream. It didn’t make sense because it was a dream. A nightmare.

Severus squeezed his eyes shut against sickening disorientation. He blinked them open. The strange face was blurred and haloed by the insufferable light, but distinct: scar, glasses, bottle green irises. It was Harry Potter. But how?

“Try not to move. We’re going to get you to somewhere safe.”

“Not me–” Severus’ fist closed around Harry’s wrist with a crushing force. He groped blindly for Potter’s body. They couldn’t move him, they needed to fight! He got a handful of fabric for his troubles and felt the skin warmed cotton around his knuckles. “The Dark Lord–!”

“Vanquished,” Harry said simply, and his face bloomed into a grin.

A relief more intense than any Severus had ever felt slammed into him. His vision wavered once more. Blood seemed to drain from his face and his limbs as relief crashed through him. Blearily he whispered, “what happened to you, boy?” and once more passed into darkness.

“Are you certain this is what you want for your new life, Severus?” Minerva asked primly over the rim of her teacup. Her face revealed as little as his own during his most concerted moments of spy craft.

Drowsy summer sun flooded the headmistress’s office with all the innate glory of midday. As bizarre as it was to find himself sitting once more on the visitor’s side of this desk, seeing Minerva in the high-backed chair of its master was deeply reassuring.

Things were as they should be.

“No.”

Honest answers were an equally bizarre addition to this New Life, as she’d called it, and a luxury he indulged in as frequently as possible.

“No, I am not certain…but it is a comfortable start.”

The witch gave a small smile. Her eyes shone with it, brighter even than the light pouring through the ancient windows.

“Hogwarts shall always be a refuge for those who seek succor,” she nodded, then tipped her cup to him in acknowledgement, “particularly for its most loyal servants.”

“Do cease prattling along with such tripe,” he admonished, albeit gently, and set his cup to rest in its saucer. For a wild moment he felt the urge to upend it and review the leaves inside.

“I’m afraid we’ve no spare rooms in the dungeons. You’ll have to quarter in the upper levels of the castle.”

He wondered if this were true, or if it was another in a long line of machinations the witch executed for what she perceived as his own good. How many times over the years had she sent him away for summers with firm instructions to get some sun? He could easily detect a lie, but not needing to was another of his new luxuries. He let it go.

“It won’t be necessary for me to resume my post as head of house, then?”

“No, we’ve an exemplary head of Slytherin House. I expect you’ll get on famously…I hope you’re not disappointed?”

“ _Gods_ no,” he huffed and found the exhalation was bordering on a chuckle.

Minerva smirked at him and leaned back in her chair, all pretense of formality vanishing. “You’re expecting this position to be something of a holiday, aren’t you?”

Severus snorted, and there was no question about whether it was a laugh this time. A smile began to creep across his features, but he successfully altered it to a smirk at the last second. “Why, headmistress, every day is a holiday for a retired _saboteur_.”

She laughed beautifully. When was the last time he’d made her laugh? Even _heard_ her laugh? Before Albus’ death, he thought. Perhaps two years ago…for him. It had of course been many more years than that for her. He wondered suddenly how many more years until she retired? Who was the deputy set to replace her? He presumed the answers to such questions would present themselves.

For the moment Severus chose to follow a different and more mysterious lead. His fingertips closed around the porcelain stem of the teacup’s handle, and he upended it. Minerva raised her brows as the last drops of tea slipped from the cup’s lip to pool in the saucer. He righted it and scanned the inside.

“Well, this is still Hogwarts. Mischief and intrigue are as alive as ever. Don’t let your guard down too far, my friend…” she advised with a coy look belying her silvered hair and lined face. In her glinting eyes he saw both echoes of the man who’d occupied that desk before them.

“Constant vigilance,” Severus murmured as he scanned the bottom of his cup.

Minerva leaned across the desk to peer inside. He playfully shielded its contents from her by turning away. She huffed, “is it a good fortune?”

Severus permitted himself a small smile, “I’ve no idea whatsoever.”

“Liar,” Minerva said.

“Truthfully, divination was never my chosen subject of study.”

“I can hardly believe there’s a subject you haven’t expertise in,” Minerva commented slyly, then straightened in her chair. “Fortunately, our current professor is unequaled. Shall we drop in for a consultation? I expect she’ll be pleased to see you.”

“Trelawny retired?”

“Certainly. She is in hiding, I believe, from sinister forces of darkness.”

“Who occupies the position presently?”

Minerva only smiled and rose from her seat. The rising was slow, and although her steps were even and sure, they were slow as well. Severus offered her his arm and allowed himself and his cup to be led from the office.

The current divination professor turned out to be Luna Lovegood, though her name was then legally Longbottom, she used her maiden name for her professional title.

“It would be too confusing to have two professor Longbottoms,” she explained softly with the same sort of plainness with which she’d explained nargles so many years ago. The presence of _two_ Longbottoms on staff brought to mind a line of questioning Severus would interrogate Minerva with later, principally why she hadn’t thought to mention this _prior_ to signing his employment contract.

His former student had been utterly unsurprised to see him (and he was willing to entertain the notion that she was, in fact, a competent clairvoyant). She’d smiled at him with such gentle kindness, he was helpless to accept the embrace she’d tenderly wrapped him in. Mercifully, it was brief. Minerva swallowed laughter at his expense.

Lovegood perused his cup for scant seconds before returning it to him.

“I don’t think you’ll be surprised to hear your cup contains a dove. I can tell by your aura that you’ve found some measure of peace.”

The perpetual dreamy expression of her childhood had transformed into a Siddhartian tranquility Severus found extremely appealing in this woman he’d known as a girl, but who was now older than he. She seemed to radiate enlightenment the way Minerva exuded wry amusement. 

Luna continued, “I see flames as well, but they are a symbol of transformation, not trial. There is something else more unusual…“

Footsteps from behind them alerted the three to another presence.

“Luna? Oh, sorry if I’m interrupting…” the newcomer said upon seeing them gathered ‘round Severus’ cup.

He gave her a cursory look over and was distracted instantly by her obscenely attractive mouth. It was the striking sort of feature a caricaturist could base an entire composition on. So captivated was he by the plump pink cupid’s bow of her lips that it took him a few seconds to realize they’d parted because she was gaping at him. His gaze snapped from her mouth to her eyes and found a look of confusion in the crease between her eyebrows. When their eyes met he watched her features awkwardly affect a look of polite interest. She did such a poor job of it he was embarrassed for her.

“Ah,” Minerva smiled, “Professor Wright, Professor Snape, I expect you’ll remember each other after a moment’s recollection.”

A wave of emotion rolled through the woman’s body as her attempt at a controlled expression dissolved into an earnest one, “I knew it. I can’t believe it,” she said.

Although it was a bit rude, Severus forgave her shock (forgiveness was another new indulgence he’d been sampling) at seeing a dead man alive more than 20 years after his alleged death, having apparently not aged so much as a day.

“Nor can I,” he replied warily. She hadn’t tried to hex him on sight, which was surprising given the last time he’d seen her she’d been a starry eyed little girl he’d called filth and then banished from school. It was a shame too, she had been a promising student. Severus was suddenly mortified by his lascivious appreciation of mouth.

They eyed each other cautiously. Tense silence pervaded the room. He wasn’t sure whether it would have been better for their reunion to occur in private or if he should be grateful for witnesses, the presence of which likely contributed to the lack of hexing.

“You remember each other then?” Minerva said conversationally, though it was forced.

“Of course. I had his classes for two years…then my father kept me out of school. It would have been my third year when…”

She didn’t have to finish. ‘ _When you were the right hand of a homicidal megalomaniac, when you oversaw the torture of Muggle-borns like me,_ w _hen you died_.’ Severus saved her floundering, “the year I was headmaster, yes. I remember you, Miss Wright. You were in Slytherin.”

“Still am,” she informed him with great pride.

“Professor Wright is head of Slytherin house,” Minerva informed him, “our current Potions Mistress and Professor of–“

“Muggle Studies,” Wright finished for her, emphatically. She gave him a steely look, waiting for his reaction the way one awaits the first blow in a fight. Severus did not miss the raising of Minerva’s eyebrow or the way Luna’s eyes twinkled. _Witches_.

“What an… interesting combination,” he replied with all the neutrality he could summon.

Wright surveyed him critically, then seemed to relax, “I always wondered what you’d think of it. That was sort of anticlimactic.”

“Severus is returning to our ranks replacing Professor Dean,” Minerva interjected, carefully moving the conversation forward.

“As long as he’s not replacing me,” Wright said and extended her hand to him. He shook it firmly thrice, and watched her eyes light up with poorly concealed delight. “I wouldn’t stand a chance if you wanted your old post back.”

“On the contrary, I’ve heard you are…exemplary.”

A heinously attractive flush spread over Wright’s face, but she kept her composure better than she had upon first seeing him. “I’ve come to borrow Luna. Perhaps you can spare her once you’re finished with your uh, _personal reading_?” she asked, looking between Luna the cup and Severus.

“I’ll come see you in your office,” Luna smiled that same tranquil smile she’d given Severus when he walked in.

“Have you finished installing the new, ah, iceboxes?” Minerva glided slowly ( _so slowly_ ) over to the younger woman.

“Yes. Do you require an inspection Headmistress?” Wright offered her arm as Severus himself had earlier, and the older woman lighted upon it with all the innate grace of her feline alter ego. The ladies descended the divination tower stairs, more unease settled within Severus with each further step of their exit. They were going to have to talk about her expulsion and he was not looking forward to it.

“This one is more uncommon,” Luna’s soft voice recaptured his attention.

She tilted the cup forward for him to look beyond the rim. In the wane light of the divination classroom he saw something he hadn’t in the illumination of Minerva’s office.

“A dainty fern. Perhaps a maidenhair?”

Dinner that night of his arrival was supremely awkward. His reputation preceded him – those faces he did not recognize carefully avoided his gaze, those which were familiar shot him inscrutable looks throughout the meal. The one exception was Herbology Professor and head of Gryffindor house, Neville Longbottom. The round-faced boy Severus remembered now wore copious laugh lines. Silver hair had crept in around his temples. He had a _beard_. He ignored Severus entirely, carrying on animated conversation with his wife.

Knowing too well how suspicion could fester and ferment into dislike, Severus set out the next morning with a mission.

On the first front was Mr. Longbottom, who he expected to occupy one of the greenhouses in the morning, before the late summer sun could crest the topmost tower of the castle and make the grounds inhospitably hot. Neville was in the first greenhouse he tried, and Severus took it as a lucky omen.

He announced his entry and greeted his quarry, “Professor Longbottom.”

Neville looked up from the base of the tree he’d been spreading mulch around to give Severus a polite nod before dropping his gaze and returning to his work. The man, who Severus calculated to now be four years older than he was, offered only cold civility.

“Good morning, Professor Snape. How may I help you today?”

“I’ve come to thank you.”

Neville frowned but did not look up or cease his work. He waited for Severus to continue.

“For avenging my death,” Severus continued, and Neville did look up at that. His hands stilled. The frown deepened, but Severus recognized it for confusion and not anger. “I’ve been informed you were the one to slay Naigini…and with Godric Gryffindor’s sword, no less. A more fitting end for the monster I could not dream.”

Neville put down his tools and stood, brushing bits of mulch off his trousers. He approached Severus with steps too measured to be as casual.

“I didn’t do it to avenge you,” Neville said. Severus had expected just this response and intended to say he was thankful for Neville’s service nonetheless – but Neville continued before he could do so. “You’re welcome anyway.”

Severus wasn’t sure what to say to that and was chagrined to find himself shifting his weight awkwardly in the silence.

“I didn’t know when I did it that Naigini bit you,” Neville told him. “But Harry told everyone what you had done. What you did for us. And I was glad I killed her.”

Severus deliberately unclenched his fists, took a slow calming breath, “ _everyone_?”

A smile tugged at the corner of Neville’s mouth. “Everyone who was in the final battle, yeah. Then the Wizengamot. And the press.”

Severus winced and groaned. “Does the entire Wizarding World know?”

“Oh yeah,” Neville smiled broadly, warming to his subject and Severus’ discomfort. “And _why_.”

“ _AND_ _why_?” this was worse than he believed. How convenient Potter had left this information out of Severus’ reeducation after he’d awoken. Severus would have murdered him. It would have been easy, alone in a ministry safehouse, no witnesses around for weeks. He’d done his part to save the boy’s life. Really, if anyone should get to end it, it was Severus. He’d earned it.

“Before you rush off to exact revenge on Harry,” Neville began–were his thoughts that plain on his face or was the man so much more insightful than the boy? He gave Severus a look which reminded him far too much of the adult Remus Lupin, “you must understand, no one would have believed it was true if they didn’t know why. Harry was dead set on clearing your name.”

Severus sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose, willing away the headache brewing behind his eyes.

Neville _chuckled at him_ , “you’re a romantic hero.”

“Oh, piss off,” Severus snapped and spun on his heel. The conversation had gone totally off its rails. The man was clearly delusional, or misleading Severus maliciously. He might have deserved it but he certainly didn’t have to stand there and listen to it.

He was surprised by the firm grip on his elbow. Severus stopped and turned back to Neville. His face was earnest as he held Severus by the arm and spoke softly.

“I don’t know how much of what you did to me in school was part of the act, and I guess I never will. I’m not a mousey little boy anymore. I won’t be pushed around by you or anyone else. I can let bygones be _by gone_ , but only if you don’t give me any new reasons to hold a grudge.”

“I’m sorry,” Severus gasped. It was as though the words were punched out of him. No matter how many times he’d practiced saying them in private, the vulnerability was gutting. He stared at Neville’s face, his eyes, waiting to be rejected. He hoped so much it would be accepted, but this man was no fool. How could he accept Severus’ apology? He deserved the worst.

Neville squeezed his arm, looked him hard in the eyes, “you are forgiven.”

Severus swallowed down the lump in his throat, nodded jerkily, and fled the greenhouse.

He took some hours to compose himself. The first battle won, albeit at the cost of his pride, Severus felt buoyed to pursue the second.

He looked for her first in her dungeon office. Both the potions classroom and adjoining office were vacant. Next he sought out the Muggle Studies classroom on the first floor. It too was empty, and vastly different from how he remembered it.

The occasions upon which he’d entered it had been few while Charity Burbage had been its overseer. He’d spent his adolescence and adulthood at Hogwarts doing all he could to distance himself from his half-Muggle upbringing, but being one of the few staff members with experience in the Muggle world besides Charity herself, she had called upon him more than once for assistance with lesson plans or a demonstration of a particular object. As the years passed he’d become less useful to her in that regard. The Muggle wonders displayed in the foyer outside the classroom proper became ever more mysterious as his tenure at the school–and absence from the Muggle world–lengthened.

Charity paid no mind to his checkered past, never pushed him beyond what he freely gave. An admirable woman. And he’d watched her murder.

The stark differences between Burbage’s classroom and Wright’s were suddenly a relief, unlike the many other changes which disoriented him daily. In place of the trinkets on pedestals, the foyer was now a seating area consisting of a large sectional and television. There were shelves and shelves of books, some with titles he recognized, others were incomprehensible.

Passing through the heavy doors to the classroom he found himself in a sprawling landscape of chrome and bleach white plastic. Every surface, every appliance was silver and white, angular and cold in jarring contrast to the warm hues and smooth, worn stone that composed the rest of the castle. It had been divided into multiple sections including a kitchen area and Muggle style lecture area complete with desks of the sort he’d seen during his not-brief-enough compulsory stint in grammar school prior to receiving his Hogwarts letter. In another area of the room rows of long white tables held individual screened boxes at intervals in front of wheeled chairs.

To his left was short flight of stairs leading to the professor’s second office which he ascended in search of his former charge.

The office held a desk and two comfortable looking visitor’s chairs. It was as spartan as the classroom, all beige fabrics and sandy colored woods with no flourishes or detailing save an oversize vase on the floor containing a stalk of white hollyhock. On one wall hung a painting depicting three lines, each a different color and width.

Feeling like a foreign invader without map or compass, Severus beat a hasty retreat from the bizarrely austere rooms. If he were found poking around uninvited amongst this baffling collection of screens, he’d start his important conversation from a position of disadvantage.

The metamorphosis of the Muggle Studies rooms had him wondering what else had changed. He hadn’t yet explored the sections of the castle which had been rebuilt after his death. Yesterday he’d avoided the dungeons after arriving, but his curiosity was getting the better of him. He knew he wouldn’t be able to focus on other tasks until it was sated. Besides, he had no other obligations.

Severus picked his way down the narrow staircase deep into the castle’s foundation. Moisture hung heavy in the air, chilly against his face. The stones were not precisely wet but glistened in the firelight as torches sprang to life, illuminating his descent. His steps drew him inexorably home.

No one had told him the current password, so he used the last one he could remember with a sneer of distaste.

“Pure blood.”

The stones parted obediently to permit him passage into Slytherin house.

For all that had changed, this was exactly the same. The long room extended far before him under the low, rough ceiling. On either side, immaculately (impossibly) clean chairs and sofas of black and green leather huddled in small groupings beside thick, cloudy windows looking out on a forest of kelp. At the farthest end a majestically carved serpent coiled in the stone above the cold, dormant fireplace. Severus moved slowly through the room, running fingers across ancient stone and tapestry, a slow processional to the mantle.

Before he made it halfway across a voice disturbed his pilgrimage.

“Hullo? Someone there?”

“It is I,” he replied, then realized that might not be as sufficient an answer in the year 2019 as it had been in the year 1998 when his voice was recognizable by all the inhabitants of the castle. Severus strode forward to the far end of the room where it branched off into the boys’ and girls’ dormitories.

He spotted the source of the voice was down the left branch leading to the girls’ rooms. She was seated in one of the many windowed alcoves looking out into the lake.

Severus hovered at the threshold, keeping his feet firmly on the common room side of the doorway out of habit. The easiest way to avoid accusations of impropriety was to simply _not_ pass through into the ladies’ space.

“Hello,” she repeated with more formality, and rose to greet him properly. She was wearing torn denims and a stained white vest. In her hands was a well-worn book.

“Good afternoon,” he replied.

Silence stretched out briefly between them, and so he asked, “am I permitted to know the password?”

“That depends. Are you a Slytherin?” she gave him a slight smile.

“It is my strong suspicion.”

“Then you may know that the password is _interloper_ and will remain so until the start of term. Am I permitted to know what password you used to supersede mine?”

“The original one, I expect.”

Her expression shifted morphed from distaste to exasperation to amusement. “Of course.”

“I am relieved to hear that it is not the official password,” he chose his words carefully and kept close watch of her face.

She sized him up overtly, with a pointed sweep of her eyes up and down his form. “Oh yeah?”

“Indeed. I myself am a half-blood.”

“Then you’re half up on me,” she sighed.

“Never say it,” he insisted. Her raised eyebrow had him back-peddling from the possible overshare into less dangerous territory. “A pureblooded witch would hardly be equipped with the knowledge to so much as name the instruments you’ve collected upstairs, let alone educate others on their operation.”

For a moment Wright only stared at him. She didn’t look surprised, though with her face in the watery shadows he could scarcely be certain. She looked satisfied.

“Thank you. I think.”

“You are welcome… _if_ you can operate them.”

This startled a laugh out of her, and he was relieved to see her posture relax dramatically. Her arms folded up across her chest as she leaned her hip against the stone wall. “Better than that. They operate for me.”

“Truly? You are their master?”

“I prefer mistress,” she purred, “but they work for me, yes…perhaps you ought to enroll in my course? I’ve heard you have a thirst for the esoteric.”

Severus did not laugh as freely as this woman, and he did not answer her careful probe, but he did allow her half a smile. “It is extremely doubtful I’ll have free periods in alignment with your first-year classes.”

“I’m sure you could skip to second year, Professor. I’d invite you to one of the classes for adults I host out of the Ministry’s, but registration for next summer hasn’t opened yet.”

The very idea of sitting amongst community members, amongst those who’d recognize him (as a romantic hero, no less) perhaps even amongst former students while this woman explained how to work a light switch sent a cold shudder down his spine.

“You must be an excellent instructor if you were able to convince them to increase the availability of the course.”

“I don’t know about that. It was easy, really. Well, not _easy_ but…simple. Answer two questions for me,” she began with a cadence Severus recognized as coming with long practice. “Are you aware that interaction between our worlds increases every year?”

“An ongoing trend for the last several _millennia_ , I believe.”

“And do you feel that the Statute of Secrecy is valuable to our society?”

“Of course.”

“Then you must agree that having the barest understanding of Muggles will aide our people in perpetuating said secrecy, for the strange behavior of ignorant people in a foreign land always brings about questions from the natives, does it not?”

“That it does…” then it was his turn to size her up, though he hoped it was with more subtlety. She’d set a verbal trap that used the values and fears of those most likely to object to her agenda to agree it was necessary. Such a campaign was difficult to argue against. Not for _him_ , but for most of the dolts she’d have had to contend with.

He provided the obvious counter argument, “what does it matter if the muggles are suspicious? We have a solution to this problem.”

“Yes,” she agreed, “and increased instances of obliviation are beginning to draw their attention. What other solution do you propose?”

“A clever rhetorical strategy.”

“I was aiming for _cunning_ , actually.” Wright stepped away from her resting place and with a flourish of her wrist the book she’d been holding dematerialized. As she walked toward him she asked, “would you like to see my toys?”

It took him a moment to realize she must mean the contraptions upstairs. His only response was to step out of the doorway and motion for her to lead the way.

She kindly named the many devices in her classroom for him, everything from the ‘Smart Whiteboard’ in the classroom to the ‘desktop computers’ on the long tables. Wright even explained their purposes while he nodded courteously. It was…mildly interesting to hear about the things Muggles had invented to compensate for their lack of magic. He did have a thirst for the esoteric and reconciling his desire for knowledge with his disdain for non-magical life was making him increasingly uncomfortable. After a few minutes she seemed to perceive this and take pity on him.

“Oh dear, I’ve begun one of my lectures. If I don’t stop now we’ll be here all day. Tea?”

Severus accepted the offer and hovered in the kitchen area while Wright powered up one of the many electric ranges and put a kettle on. Watching her do it the Muggle way was…charming, and it recalled a faint nostalgia for the Evans family. The boiling water was decanted into individual cups, each with its own bag. They took their tea in the office and had been making stunted, polite conversation for a short time while he gathered the courage necessary to say what he’d come to say.

“Miss Wright,” he set his cup down and laid his hands in his lap. She set her own aside and waited patiently for him to proceed. “I apologize for the way that we…ended things before my death.”

She waved his apology away abruptly, “that is totally unnecessary, Professor Snape. When the whole story came out I…I realized why you’d done it. I’m glad you brought it up, though. I’ve been trying to figure out how to say thank you without just blurting it out,” she laughed nervously.

“Please don’t thank me,” he felt his throat go tight and forced himself to swallow.

She opened her mouth to argue the point, but was blessedly interrupted when another face from Severus’ past appeared in the doorway.

“My stars, it’s true!” Poppy Pomfrey exclaimed, pressing a hand to her bosom and leaning into the doorframe as though about to faint. “You’re alive. But how?!”

This was more in line with the type of reaction Severus had expected to receive than he’d been subjected to up to this point.

Wright set her mug aside, taking the interruption in stride. She placed her hands delicately on the desktop and leaned forward with a zealous expression, “Oh yes, yes, tell us.”

“Why Professor, showing me your ‘computationers’ was a ruse to entrap me all along?”

“ _Computers_. And yes, it was,” Wright shrugged.

“Harry Potter,” Severus told them both, as if this were a complete explanation. Wright reclined back in her seat, bemused face clearly reflecting her thoughts, _I should have known_. Poppy did not seem to find it a sufficient answer.

“Well I’m not surprised but that is _who_ , Severus, not _how_ ,” Poppy harrumphed and sat in the vacant chair to his left. Wright conjured another steaming mug of tea before Poppy with a silent flourish. Apparently the non-magic production of tea making earlier had been a choice. She must have been gathering the nerve to share her appreciation while he prepared to make his apologies. 

“You’d have to ask the boy,” Severus explained, then frowned, “ _man_ ,” and hid his face behind his own mug by raising it to take a sip, though it was already empty.

Poppy huffed out a laugh and shook her head, “when was this?”

“Just after Easter of this year. He left me to…coalesce in a ministry safe house. Minerva has allowed me to resume my position as Defense instructor, so I may remain mostly secluded within the castle after my resurrection becomes more widely known.”

“And thank the heavens for that. Dean made my skin crawl,” Wright sniffed. Severus did not miss the way she carefully redirected the conversation.

“Really?” Poppy was taken aback. “That dear man?”

“Anyone that cheery is clearly a psycho. It was disturbing, especially at early morning staff meetings.”

“Then I shall endeavor to be most somber at all times,” Severus inclined his head to her and rose from his seat. “If you ladies will excuse me, I’ve a classroom to prepare.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note to acknowledge Luna's marriage to Neville and presence as a Hogwarts professor (and not even the Care of Magical Creatures one!) are unapologetic breaks from canon. Sorry not sorry. Thus why I've called this fic *mostly* canon-compliant.


	2. Chapter 2

Severus could not be sure if Poppy alone spread details of his rescue from Death with the other occupants of the castle or if Wright had assisted, but news spread as fast as it always had at Hogwarts. He had expected the information to leak beyond the castle walls before the start of term, but the lack of reporters and gawkers seemed to imply it had not. He wasn’t sure if this was due to disinterest in his resurrection or if Minerva had sworn strict secrecy amongst her disciples.

In either case, it was a both a relief and a source for anxiety. The lack of public speculation was a luxury he had not dared hope for, but it meant a greater shock was due at the start of term feast.

The two weeks before term passed with alarming speed. More staff members trickled in as the days passed, and Severus found himself engaged in many a teatime catching up with faces much older than he recalled them. There were more new ones than he’d anticipated, but those wisely kept their distance from the reputedly surly man.

In no time at all he found himself entering the great hall on the evening of September first. He deposited himself in the open seat between Hagrid and where the Longbottoms sat side by side at the very end, positioned well to either hide in the half-giant’s shadow or escape into the passageway just behind the head table if necessary.

As the older students arrived and filed in to take their seats, no one paid more than the passing glance at their ‘new’ instructor. No recognition flitted across their little faces, and why should it? They were far too young. Once all had settled, Severus’ gaze swept the hall and spotted two boys at the Slytherin table shooting him convert glances, speaking in low tones with their heads close together. The shock of platinum hair on one left no doubt of his parentage, and the untidy chestnut locks of his coconspirator made Severus’ stomach clench with queasy familiarity.

The door at the side of the hall opened and a hush fell over all gathered as it had in this place, on this night, for ages. Filius Flitwick led the processional of new students across the front of the hall to await the calling of their names and their sorting. The hat performed for them a song of growth and change, assuring them all of its wisdom, Severus paid it as little attention as he ever had. A nostalgia swelled in his chest so warm and fierce it hurt his heart as the list of names progressed, almost all of them familiar. Some young faces so similar to their parents’, so many that had survived the Dark Lord’s onslaught. Any names that weren’t called he let himself believe weren’t heard because their forebearers had not had children or had not birthed them in the year necessary for them to be called this night.

“Potter, Lily.”

A little orange haired girl stepped forward and Severus’ heart stalled in his chest. She did not look like _his_ Lily, the face was all wrong, but as she sat upon the stool and the hat perched atop her head Severus was eleven years old again. He could hear the hat before it spoke “Gryffindor.” The ripples of time connecting past and present for an interminable moment.

Only the hat wasn’t calling Gryffindor. It considered briefly, longer than Severus thought it had with Lily Potter The First, before it proclaimed, “RAVENCLAW!”

“Well I’ll be…”Hagrid grunted on one side. “Three Potters in three differen’ ‘ouses.”

“Three??” Severus tore his gaze away from the little Lily.

“You stayed with Harry but never met his family?” Neville asked, leaning past his wife to peer into Severus’ face. Luna was giving a little wave and a smile to the newest member of her house.

“I stayed in a ministry safe house” he snapped, “I hardly saw Potter.”

“Well there’s James Potter at the Gryffindor table,” as unsubtle as ever, Neville pointed openly to an older boy who was the spitting image of both his father and the previous James Potter. The boy in question seemed to sense the attention on his person and gave Neville a wave and a grin. His eyes locked with Severus and the grin widened. He jerked his chin in a nod of acknowledgment.

“An’ tha’s Al Potter at _yer old table_ next ta young Mister Malfoy,” Hagrid added, thankfully in a quieter voice and without overt gesturing. Severus suspected this was less to do with subtlety and more out of respect for the sorting still in progress.

It was little surprise they should be the exact boys Severus had spied leering at him earlier. The two then sat respectfully still and silent, but still shot Severus covert glances, averting their gazes to the front of the hall with an abrupt snap when caught staring by the very object of their attention.

Neville huffed out a laugh and leaned past his wife so he could look Severus directly in his face when he added, “my godson, that is. Albus. _Severus_. Potter.”

He felt his face go a violent red, then abruptly drain of all color. So that’s why he was an utter fascination to them. It was not only his fame and former association with their parents, the damnable boy had his fucking name. How _conveniently_ Potter had left so much out of his briefing. What else had been omitted? How many unfortunate youths bore his unfortunate moniker? Named such by idealistic survivors of the war. How many at this school? Even now? Was some young Severus seated at the Ravenclaw table, perhaps? Or, gods forbid, _at Gryffindor’s_?

“Lily is the youngest, and she’s gone to sit next to my boys Lysander and Lorcan. They were travelling with their father over the summer…” Luna continued softly, though Severus scarcely heard her over the blood pounding in his ears.

Minerva cleared her throat softly, silencing further discussion amongst the professors as the sorting continued. The sense of ecstatic nostalgia that had bathed him at the start of the ceremony was all but obliterated. With the exception of “Granger-Weasley, Hugo” (GRYFFINDOR), the sorting concluded at “Zenith, Ambrosia” (SLYTHERIN) with no further unpleasantly recognizable names.

His gaze was drawn inexorably to the Slytherin table. Each time both boys had their eyes studiously fixed at the front of the room…at least they had some measure of self-control, and perhaps the sort of aloof pragmatism that had kept Severus and countless other snakes alive through Hogwarts’ history.

The headmistress rose from her seat with the slowness of morning mist creeping off the lake and over the countryside. The brief babble as the older students welcomed the additions to their houses hushed to the quiet of dawn before the fog.

“Welcome, All.”

Her hands came up, and Severus felt that all were at the edges of their seats. As attentive as he and his classmates had been through every transfiguration lecture. Minerva’s very presence commanded it.

“Welcome once again, to another wonderful year together. Older students will please join me in welcoming our first years, and I expect all of you will welcome the two additions to our staff for this year. Professor Hieronymus Jacobus will take over as our master of Ancient Runes,” Minerva made a grand gesture in the direction of a fellow who evoked a monk, rotund and rosy cheeked with graying hair circuiting a prodigious bald spot. The man rose to his feet and waved jovially to all assembled. Severus watched Minerva ground herself with a slow breath before she continued, “Welcome Professor Jacobus. And please also welcome your new Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor, Professor Severus Snape.”

As the old adage went, one could have heard a pin drop. The quality of the silence transformed into a palpable shock before murmurs of confusion began to spread.

_It can’t be_ THE _Severus Snape._

_Isn’t he dead?_

_Maybe someone else has the same name?_

_Not exactly a common name, is it?_

Severus kept his gaze fixed on a sconce across the hall. He couldn’t bear to look at their faces, but he certainly wasn’t going to hang his head. He kept his face perfectly impassive and waited for the murmurs to quell. As they died down, he turned to meet Minerva’s gaze. She was giving him a tender smile the likes of which he hadn’t seen since his mother had passed. Further down the table Flitwick and Sinistra had risen to their feet to applaud his return. Wright gave him a surprisingly watery smile before averting her gaze.

Hagrid clapped a rubbish bin sized hand on his shoulder and squeezed ever so gently, “’s good ta have yeh back, Snape.”

His classroom was exactly as it had been the last year he’d occupied this position. Windows shuttered tightly, shadows descended from the stone buttresses in each corner of the room, cloaking the bookshelves and neat rows of desks in darkness. The interspersed candelabras and torches were sentinels of light, adding to the somber ambiance. Setting the stage with darkness should be off-putting. He wanted the young cretins uncomfortable. They should be focused on surviving his ire, not fretting over Quidditch or the opposite sex or the myriad other ‘concerns’ they distracted themselves with in their other classes.

Retreating to the office, he waited for the students’ arrival and the bell indicating the start of class before he made his entrance. He let the office door bang open against the adjoining stone wall as he swept in. Dread silence had a strangle hold on the room as he approached the lectern, spun and twitched his robes neatly behind himself. All eyes were trained studiously upon his person, but contrary to the wary caution or even fear he long remembered seeing on the faces of his pupils, there was…

_Dear Merlin._

Every seat in the front two rows was occupied by a fourteen-year-old girl, each wearing identical simpers unseen since the year Gilderoy Lockhart had this job.

It made him wildly uncomfortable.

As soon as he’d turned at the front, he’d opened his mouth to begin his prepared remarks. But his tongue had forsaken him, ceasing to function under the infatuated scrutiny of a half dozen minors. Never mind the fact that no one – absolutely _no one_ – had _ever_ looked at him like that before. They were so damned _young_. Unforgivably young. Thinking of them thinking of _him_ in…in _any wa_ y made him feel unaccountably filthy.

This was not one of the eventualities he’d prepared himself for before emerging from his chambers that morning.

He closed his mouth, swallowed, and began his lecture as planned. He walked as he spoke, maneuvering past the moon-eyed girls to the rear of the classroom, giving what he hoped were unnerving glances to each child. Let _them_ feel scrutinized. The more of their little faces he looked in to, the more he saw other eager emotions – excitement, anticipation. These he was not used to seeing in students older than first year. _Give it time Snape,_ he thought, _you’ll grind it out of them._

Only upon the completion of his talk did he return to the front of the room. He opened the floor for questions, which turned out to be a mistake so horrific he did not repeat it in any other lessons that week. Nearly every hand in the room shot up. He was assaulted with interrogatives surrounding the war, his role in it, whether he had been ‘really really dead,’ and if he’d actually been ‘besties’ with Lily Potter. Severus ignored each one in turn and before it could devolve beyond the first three extremely personal questions he snapped, “does anyone have a question regarding the _syllabus_?”

They looked to one another, disappointment washing away their zeal. All hands lowered reluctantly. Good.

“Ten points from Hufflepuff, and twenty from Ravenclaw for each of your absurdly inappropriate quandaries. And you, what are you called?” he pivoted to address a girl who was actually sitting with her chin propped up in her hands, gazing upon him with great fondness.

She flushed at his attention and answered hopefully, “Gemma Turner, Sir.”

“Miss. Turner. …Is your neck so insubstantial that it is unable to support your thick skull?”

Her eyes went wide with shock. She opened her mouth, closed it.

“Well?” he demanded.

“N-no, Sir.”

“Then take your elbows off your desk and keep your hands in your lap as I’m sure your mother has taught you to…unless, of course, you were raised by feral cats.”

The girl had nothing to say in response to this, but startled laughter did erupt from a Ravenclaw boy in the back. The young lady at his side elbowed him in the stomach and tossed him a sharp look.

“Now, if Miss Turner is finished monopolizing our time with this lesson in basic table manners, let us return to the task at hand – disciplining your minds and bodies so they are capable of surviving an unfriendly spell. Who here can cast and maintain _protego_?”

His other classes followed the same pattern. Each began with eager admirers drinking in his person (this never became less shocking no matter how many times it had happened), and each time he made shorter and shorter work of snuffing it out. By the second day of classes the whole lot of them were avoiding him in the corridors and scurrying out of his classroom with dire speed at the end of each lesson…as well they should.

At the conclusion of that exhausting second day, Severus made his way down to the Great Hall. He considered skipping dinner, having no appetite, then resolved to make an appearance only to lord his unpleasant presence over the lot of them, solidifying the day’s work of instilling fear.

This plan collapsed almost as soon as it coalesced when he turned down the first-floor landing to see Scorpius Malfoy’s father loitering in the Entrance Hall. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were dead, Potter had told him that, but their child still lived. Severus had foolishly believed the time and place of his reunion with Draco would be of his own choosing, that it might be preceded by an exchange of letters. Instead, Severus’ former charge had been his typical impatient self. Only now he was middle-aged and looking more like his father than ever before with a long plait of platinum hair falling down the back of exquisitely tailored robes.

Draco peered disdainfully into the Great Hall. A scornful look twisted his mouth so deeply Severus felt he could share the sour taste in Draco’s mouth as he took in the castle’s unchanging scenery. It was a living monument to all that had transgressed within its walls, victories and defeats. In the Slytherins’ case, it had been mostly the latter.

Severus approached the man, who was now older than himself (depending on how one did the counting). Draco’s situational awareness hadn’t improved over the years – he did not notice Severus standing behind him until he spoke the other man’s name softly. His former student turned, looking as if a phantasm had uttered his name. Shocked desperation washed over Malfoy’s face as he grabbed two fistfuls of Severus’ robes and _shook_ him.

“It’s you. It’s really _you_.”

They were collecting stares as students edged awkwardly past where they were blocking the entryway. Severus broke Draco’s grip with a sweep of his arms, then took the other man by the elbow and dragged him away. He opted for the dungeon, it being closer than his quarters or office. The door to the potions classroom opened readily to his hand and no sooner had it closed behind them than Draco launched into the same tirade of questions Severus had been subjected to the last two days.

“How? Did you fake your death or-?”

“Or what?” Severus sighed, lowering himself onto a stool at the nearest workbench. He wasn’t sure he could survive another round the same inquisition.

“Or…or were you really… _resurrected_?” 

Sighing twice in less than two minutes was unbecoming for a man his age. Severus couldn’t be bothered with caring. The exhalation passed his lips but brought no relief. He ground his palms into his eyes, then settled his hands in his lap. There was no strength left in him for evasion or scrutiny.

“I was resurrected.”

“How?” Draco asked sharply, approaching the bench but too agitated to sit.

“My soul was something of an impulse purchase by someone in the checkout line of hades,” he bit out.

Draco processed this information for a moment. It was too brief to give Severus much of an opportunity for reprieve. “What was it like?”

“It wasn’t like anything. I remember my death, and then I…woke up from it.”

“ _Who brought you back_?”

The rapid-fire questioning left no room for Severus to breathe. He breathed anyway and let the other man wait.

Draco’s hands were on him again, wrinkling his teaching robes, “who? _Who_?”

“Who do you think?!” he snapped, roughly slapping the other man’s hands away. His irritation crested and a wave of fury crashed into his churning stomach. “Who have I ever been indebted to?! Who is this world’s blessed SAVIOR?!”

The tenuous string of wrath that had vibrated taut in his heart from the moment he’d awoken in this _bright_ , unforgiving world, suffering through reacclimating to this plain of reality, learning his sordid and humiliating past had been put on display – snapped. He hefted a jar of…something, he didn’t care to look, and slammed it down into the stone floor at his feet. Severus tore another from the same shelf, then another. As the third went down the contents of two or more of the sacrificial preserves reacted in a crackle of lightening.

Electrical fire spread as far as the contents of the jars had scattered and burned itself out. With it went the lividity he’d felt would split him in two.

Draco sat heavily on a stool. Severus leaned panting against the line of shelves he’d briefly ransacked.

“What was Potter doing in hell, anyway?” Draco asked quietly, almost rhetorical. Then he met Severus’ eyes and gave a sneer, “and why didn’t he stay there?”

Severus barked out a laugh, scrubbed his hands over his face.

“I never received a satisfactory answer on that point. You might inquire yourself. Something about returning an escaped entity…”

Draco nodded, “I suppose that would be in his job description, if it were wreaking havoc in magical Britain.”

“And his reward for performing this miracle was to leave with a life of his own choosing. Someone who’s life had ended prematurely… he said that, for whatever reason, my name was the first to cross his mind. Before he could have a second thought or even speak his choice, the deal was done.”

“Why not his _mother_?”

Acidic guilt churned Severus’ guts again. He felt the threat of tears prick his eyes. “An excellent question.”

“Is that true too, then?” Draco asked softly, “you were in love with her all along.”

“I loved her,” Severus corrected. “You cannot be _in love_ with someone who was never yours.”

“Hippogriff Shit,” Draco contradicted, a bit cheerfully. “You can love someone you don’t have, someone who doesn’t love you back, someone who refuses to see you.”

“Let us not succumb to melodrama,” Severus drawled. “Does this mean you do not think me a poor wizard? For loving a Muggle-born.”

Draco gave a bittersweet smile. There was something hidden in his expression. His eyes became glassy, “I do not.”

“Do you not feel betrayed?”

Without hesitation, Draco shook his head. “Not anymore.” That answer left much room for interpretation, but Severus let it lie. “My wife, Astoria-” Draco stopped for a moment, breathed, “she believed Muggles and Wizards must find harmony or humanity will stagnate.”

“A wise woman,” Severus nodded respectfully.

“We’re burying her Saturday,” Draco told him. A haunted smile spread over his face, he seemed to shed tears unknowingly. “And with her go all the best parts of myself.”

“Only if you let them.”

Draco would be wise to consider the source of this advice, particularly since the source had just finished committing a vandalous tantrum, but the loss of a woman more virtuous than oneself was a matter Snape had the greatest expertise in. Malfoy gave him an assessing look, hopefully pondering exactly that.

Severus gave the man a moment to absorb his prior statement, then added, “she lives on in her son.”

“Are we still talking about Astoria?” Draco gave a half-hearted smirk.

“That’s the thing about Truth, Draco, it remains even as the names change.”

“Will you come? To the service?”

That hardly seemed appropriate–he hadn’t known the woman–but Severus shrugged and agreed. The look of grateful relief that crossed the other man’s face made Severus feel so young. Draco looked as though he’d lived more years in more pain that Severus himself had. He supposed he’d been lucky with Lily, in a way. She hadn’t been his wife. She’d cut ties with Severus years before, and her death had been quick. To watch one’s love die in slow torment, powerless to save them or even ease their suffering…

Severus swallowed thickly. A dreadful silence began to spread between them but was mercifully broken when the classroom door swung open.

Professor Wright surveyed the scene, then wrinkled her nose and gave Severus a disapproving look. “Too bad you chose Malfoy Senior for this little chat; Scorpius would have had the good sense to save my lightening flowers.”

“Gerry-“ Draco started, and to Severus’ disbelief the aristocrat’s words were halted by no more than her raised hand.

“I’ll deal with _you_ later. Your son has finished his dinner and is in the library with Potter. Tell them if they’re working on their essays for _my_ class they’ve waited too long to start.”

Draco obediently made for the door, laying a hand on Wright’s shoulder as he passed. “Scorpius would never procrastinate his potions homework.”

“Hmm. My office in twenty?”

“Righto… I’m glad you’re here, Professor Snape.”

Severus had nothing to say on that point, still unsure whether _he_ was glad to be there. He acknowledged Draco’s exit with a nod of his head, then awaited whatever scathing criticism his colleague had in store for him. _It was my classroom for longer than she’s been breathing_ , he thought. _She sat in that desk at the front sketching illustrations of her ingredients when she should have been stirring._

“Do you…erm, do you need to _talk_ about…whatever the hell this was?” She came to stand in front of him, arms crossed over her chest.

“No.”

“Oh, thank God. I was hoping Draco already threw himself on that sword.”

“Not much for soulful conversation, Wright?”

She was wearing a pinched expression copied directly from the Minerva McGonagall catalog, right down to the way her eyes sparkled with secret amusement. The look only served to draw his gaze to her criminally plump lips more rapidly than usual. He looked away as soon as his eyes lit upon them. He thought she might have noticed anyway, because she broke into a smile that bordered on flirtatious.

“Not when they childishly waste my carefully preserved potions components,” she gave the still smoking floor a pointed look. “The burdock and black sand I couldn’t care less about, but my damn flowers, Snape…”

He winced, embarrassed by his adolescent outburst, “I apologize-“

She waved him off, as she had the last time he’d attempted an apology. “I know you’ll replace them…so I won’t try to extract the cost from your hide.”

Severus’ eyebrows shot up. As soon as she’d said it she turned her back on him and strode over to the door of the adjoining office. Flicking a wrist, the mess of glass shards, dried plant and silica on the floor fizzled into a cloud of smoke. Wright cast a brief look at him over her shoulder that inexplicably caused his stomach to flop.

“I expect you can see yourself out, Sir.”

The service was sparsely attended, perhaps because it was outdoors just as autumn tightened its grip on the countryside. Aside from Draco and his son, there was the young Albus Potter, an aged man introduced to Severus as Astoria’s uncle, two witches (the deceased’s friends, presumably) and…Professor Wright. Peculiar for a head of house to attend funeral rites for the families of their students, but not unprecedented.

Through the solemn songs and eulogy, he watched Draco. His expressions. The contradictory mixture of melancholy and stoicism that passed over his sharp features in waves. The contrast between the reserved man and the often-obnoxious youth Severus had known were startling. Yet another in a string of disturbing reminders of the time he’d missed. _Or the absurdity of the chance you’ve been mistakenly given_ , the treacherous voice in his mind whispered.

At the conclusion of the ceremony all assembled lifted their wands in the prescribed manner, and then were free to part ways. As was typical of such gatherings, few actually took their leave. Only Mrs. Malfoy’s uncle turned and strode a respectable distance to apparate, leaving a meager crowd of three ladies and four gents. The women immediately descended upon Draco, either with genuine grief or opportunism. Wright took the opportunity to console her students. She laid a hand on the Malfoy boy’s shoulder, but carefully fixed her gaze on Potter as she spoke. Scorpius hastily wiped his eyes and nose during the exchange, then accepted a hug from his head of house. Geraldine spared a brief hug for Potter as well before taking her turn with Draco, insinuating herself between the man and his wife’s friends even as the other ladies turned their noses up at her.

When Severus’ moment came to pay respects to each Malfoy, he barely staid his own hands from the awkward comfort of an embrace. He’d known the mother of their clan not at all…she’d been home schooled and never crossed his path at Hogwarts…Severus could not give words more relevant than an apology for their loss. It reminded him too much of the days leading up to the war. The first _and_ the second. Giving condolences for the unknown dead. He had to escape.

Rather than apparate on the spot, he wandered past the lonely rows of marble headstones that twisted out of the orange carpet of decaying leaves, the sightless stone angels who turned their empty eyes up to the gray sky and out of the cemetery. Descending the hill which connected the graveyard to the empty street beyond, he passed thought the hulking iron gates and found Wright leaning against the outer stone wall. She fiddled with an odd little box, struggling to reign in her tears. Some people were pretty when they cried, and he noted disdainfuly that she was one of them.

Once she realized he’d appeared beside her she visibly forced her features into calm, or as near as she was capable. He thought she must be awful at cards with a face that transparent. If she were ever foolish enough to join one of the games which occasionally popped up in the staffroom, he would enjoy taking her gold.

Wright looked at him with a mix of apprehension and expectation. He broke the silence, “were you close?”

His colleague avoided devolving into sobs, but the question prompted a rush of silent tears down her flushed cheeks. She looked back at the little box, tapping her fingers along the side facing up. Trying not to be too obvious, Severus squinted at it. The top side was lit, and little characters squirmed around its surface in response to her strokes. A Muggle trinket, then. He suppressed an eye-roll.

Wright sniffled a bit, then answered, “yes. We were friends.”

“Fortunate for her. There seem to have been few others,” Severus remarked.

Wright nodded, “she was a ‘ _Muggle sympathizer_ ’…so not especially popular in the circles her family traveled. Not that they’ve done much socializing the last ten years. But she was a patron of mine, I guess you could say. She supported my work. Ardently.”

“My condolences,” he repeated what was becoming the morning’s mantra.

“Such a waste. Hard to believe there are still sicknesses magic can’t cure…” Wright shook her head, then slipped the Muggle device into her pocket. She looked up at him with a brighter expression so forced he felt a pang of tension in his own face. “Well, that’s enough moping for me. Back to the castle?” she invited, offering her arm as though he could not simply apparate himself.

“Indeed,” he said, ignoring the offered limb and dematerializing.

For all she’d been ready to leave with him, she did not appear beside him at the edge of Hogwarts’ grounds. He waited a moment, then wondered _why_ he should wait for her. Because she was grieving and wished to be alone after all? Because refusing her was ruder than he’d been to her in twenty years?

When she did not materialize in the moments after his internal dilemma began, he strode up the path to the castle alone.


	3. Chapter 3

“Professor Snape, a moment of your time?”

Wright had rapped politely on the door and waited until invited to enter, so Severus could hardly justify being irritated by her appearance. Then again, after a morning’s subjection to daydreaming third years, he could hardly bring another feeling to muster.

“That depends on how long you believe a moment is,” Severus tapped the rolls of parchment clasped in his hand on the desktop to straighten their edges and set them neatly aside.

“Alright. May I have…” she pulled the sleeve of her robes back dramatically to glance at a wristwatch, “seven minutes of your time?”

He felt a smile threatening to break out and reigned it in. “You may have five.”

“Alright, time starts in four…three…two…mark,” she counted the seconds on her watch and lifted her chin to look at him seriously. “I will be absent from school next Wednesday through to the end of the week. I require assistance covering three classes.”

“Naturally. And what brewing curriculum have you prepared?”

Wright seemed to reign in a pleased look, her expression lightening for a split second before hardening to something even more stern. He wondered if she was aware of her inability to properly control her expressions, or if she simply trying.

“There will be no brewing, Sir. Professor Longbottom will host potions students alongside his classes in the greenhouse for dual-subject lectures, herbology and potions having such an obvious connection…it is Muggle Studies which requires supervision.”

“Miss Wright,” Severus drew her name out slowly to set her on edge as well as giving himself more time to coalesce a suitably denigrating rejection. Wright made a show of peeking at her watch. Severus snapped, “I have several of my own classes on those days. If it is not a Potions Master you require, I encourage you to put aside whatever misplaced motivation spurred you to make this request of me and pursue your needs with professors in possession of _free periods_.”

“My _dear_ Professor Snape,” Wright began sweetly, making him bristle. How dare she presume to call him _dear_? She settled herself on the edge of his desk, “two of the classes in question _are_ during your free periods–and I _do_ apologize for depriving you of them–the third takes place during one of your first-year classes, which I expect you might be able to step away from briefly to check that my advanced class is watching the film I’ve assigned and not philandering.”

“You have not answered my question…how much time do you have left?”

“Four minutes,” she said without checking her watch.

“Ham handed flattery and now lies? Someone ought to teach you how to ask for favors.”

“You offering?”

He gave her a withering glare.

“Right, so I wasn’t really timing anything. And the reason I need you to do it is, I need someone who has actually used a phone before. You must have had one growing up.”

He gave her a long, appraising look, and ignored her question. Skeptical, he asked, “none of the other faculty has used a telephone?”

“Not to my knowledge, Sir. You and I are the only adults here who were raised in Muggle homes…someone else might have used one once on a lark, but that’s not going to cut it…you have used a telephone, haven’t you, Sir?”

He had not only used a telephone, but he had also been beaten for calling a girl late at night the summer between first and second years. Lily and he had practically _lived_ on the phone that summer, which had been unseasonably cold and wet (even for England). Young Severus had not been allowed to have girls over, which suited him fine as there was no telling what embarrassment or torture might be inflicted upon them by his loathsome father. With the weather too poor most days for playing outside, and Severus still reluctant to spend time in the Evans household, they had held long conversations on the wire.

“I have,” he confessed softly. The idea of admitting that to a room full of students…of letting them into that painful part of his life through the process of teaching…it turned his stomach.

Wright was looking at him with unacceptable tenderness, and something else. Not desperation, but not far from it. She had asked him because she thought she could trust him with her pro-Muggle agenda. To have another Slytherin in the teaching position for that course only increased her legitimacy. The world’s knowledge of his love for the Muggle-born mother of Harry bleeding Potter meant Wright was probably counting on sympathy or guilt to ensure his cooperation.

And he was going to deliver it, gods damn her. But not without a certain amount of challenge first.

“And what cause is there for your absence?”

“You care?” Wright raised an eyebrow.

“Only enough to ensure my time is sacrificed for an appropriate end.”

Wright gave him a tight hard look and drew a long breath, nostrils flaring. “Sir, I am obligated to report for military service a number of days every year. I have been called for duty next week… a war hero of your caliber can surely appreciate that.”

“Fine,” he sighed. “Telephone etiquette, a film, and what else?”

“My fourth-years will be working on proposals for their research project. They’re a rowdy lot, so I am counting on your presence to subdue them…and make them think twice about using my computers to look at, erm...things they shouldn’t.”

“What sort of things?” he frowned.

She chuckled, “ _all_ of them. I have safety protocols but the tach savvy ones always find a way ‘round. I’ll show you how to monitor their activity when we go over the lesson plans. Drop in whenever it’s convenient for you,” Wright finished, and rose to leave.

“One more thing, Ms. Wright,” his soft voice halted her exit, “do me a courtesy, and do not presume to call me your ‘dear’ in future… false affinity will _not_ endear you to me.”

Wright did her best to repress another smile. This attempt was less successful than the first and ended in a look far too soft to be directed at him.

She backed slowly away from his desk toward the door as she spoke, “how about you do _me_ a courtesy and don’t presume my affinity is false? I enjoy your tiresome, _irritating_ needling. It’s a _perverse_ enjoyment but try not to let that worry you.”

Severus couldn’t hold back a derisive snort, “you’ve already taken far too much of my time. I’ve no intention to waste more investigating the depths of your mental illness.”

“Never change, mate!” she called over her shoulder and ducked out the door before he could protest her overly familiar behavior.

The week passed uneventfully, though Severus dreaded third-year Muggle Studies Wednesday afternoon. The fourth-year class came and went that morning and was not nearly as inconvenient as he anticipated.

A small number of students had been using the translator function on their computers to generate profanity in other languages, which he spotted on the monitor Wright had shown him how to operate late Monday night. His shadow falling over their _keying boards_ had put an instant end to that behavior. Severus interrogated each member of the group about their proposals, hoping very much that his face would not reveal complete incomprehension… water fluoridation, _O-Zone lair_ depletion and social media addiction…the sentences contained English words, but combined into phrases only vaguely coherent.

“Get on with it, then,” he’d sneered and swept away.

The lunch hour dragged interminably, with Severus merely picking at the meager portions of food he’d added to his plate. To say he dreaded the telephone play would be an understatement, though his anxiety turned out to be unfounded.

Wright had informed him that she typically asked Muggle-Borns in her class to share their own knowledge and experience with their classmates, building trust amongst them and providing a wealth of perspectives their peers could learn from. She encouraged him to use this format and Severus had no intention of second-guessing the woman in her area of expertise.

“Who can tell me what a telephone is?” he began and, bolstered by thoughtful answers with varying degrees of technical details, continued with a line of questioning that largely allowed the students to do the work for him. What do Muggles use telephones for? When is an appropriate time of day to make a call? When is it _not_? What are the traditional salutations?

And with that completed he initiated the practical part of the lesson plan. Wright called for students to pair off and take turns at the front of the room roleplaying with a pair of phones. These devices were radically different from the one which occupied Severus’ childhood kitchen. Instead of spinning a wheel to input a number, the headset had a grid of soft nubbins set in rows, each with a number and, inexplicably, _letters_. Strangest of all, they had no wires _._

One Hufflepuff boy who had given a very technical explanation of cell towers earlier in the class remarked, “funny Professor Wright didn’t spring for the touch screens,” when his turn came to take up the prop, positively baffling Severus.

A Gryffindor girl who’d been silent during the first half of the lesson sat casually motionless while the phone beside her rang and rang. Her partner grew visibly impatient as the ringing went on.

“Miss Abernathy, have you gone deaf?” Severus sighed, resigned to enduring what was sure to be puerile logic.

“No, Sir,” she said and allowed the ringing to continue.

“Have you forgotten what task you are expected to perform?”

“No, Sir.”

“Enlighten me, please, as to whether you intend to answer that call _today_ ,” he barked.

“Sir, my mother says it’s good to let it ring a bit when boys call so they don’t think you’re desperate, waiting by the phone for them.”

Severus took a slow breath and released it as a sigh.

“I don’t think you’re desperate,” assured the boy on the other end of the line.

“Right,” the girl said brightly and answered, “hullo?”

“Hello. Is Susan there?”

“Who may I ask is calling?” Susan inquired politely.

“Erm…Ethan. From school?”

“Oh hello, Ethan. This is Susan. I was just washing my hair…”

“Enough,” Severus barked at them. “Finish it.”

The remaining pairs took their turns without further incident, and then the period was quickly over. The students politely filed out and were gone without even one of the scenarios he’d fretted over playing out. No questions as to his ancestry or upbringing, nor regarding his tolerance of Muggles…these children were far too young, apparently, to question his presence. His participation went entirely uncommented upon, even by the other staff members, until Wright’s return after dinner Sunday evening when she asked for his report.

She’d found him outside the staffroom, and performed her inquisition walking alongside him as he picked his way back to his rooms. “Were they nice to you?”

Severus felt his face twist into a bemused expression, “you want to know if they were _nice_?”

“Of course. It’s been a while since I was a student, but I recall a certain joy giving substitute teachers the run around.”

“Their behavior was adequate. No detentions were assigned.”

They made a leisurely stroll of it, meandering unhurried through corridors and up staircases. At the second floor landing he leaned against the bannister on one side while they waited for the rotating steps to swivel back and connect in the correct direction. Wright echoed his posture, leaning against the opposite railing two steps lower.

“Well, thank you again. Can I buy you a drink or something…?”

His head jerked around. He gave her a quizzical look and she dropped her gaze to fiddle with the sleeves of her robes while she awaited his answer. She was biting her lip, and he felt his palms become clammy.

“That is… not necessary, Miss Wright. In fact, I’ve rather a lot of marking to accomplish before tomorrow’s lessons.”

The staircase rumbled beneath their feet as the ancient stones slid back into the position required for Severus’ forward progress. Once they clicked into place, he resumed his ascent. Wright stayed where she was, wearing a neutral expression that wasn’t very neutral at all given her tendency to smile at him.

Was she infatuated with him? A supremely misguided attraction to be sure. He couldn’t be sure what she was hoping for, but he was sure he couldn’t provide it. Particularly not when he’d returned to Hogwarts to get his life in order. Regroup and plot the next steps. Her interest, if he were reading it right, couldn’t have more inconvenient timing.

“I really do appreciate your help,” Wright added awkwardly. She visibly steeled herself and looked back up at him, professional. “If I can return the favor, you’ll let me know?”

“There is no need. Good night,” he replied with finality and did not look back to see if she watched him go. 

The beginning of the week was uneventful in its passing. At breakfast Monday the Longbottoms quizzed Wright on her militaristic adventure, which she downplayed emphatically as “just some training exercises.” Sitting on the other side of the couple meant Severus heard every word, but he chose not to engage in the discussion. He had nearly convinced himself that Wright was not attracted to him ( _why in the blazes would she be?_ ) that he was flattering himself with the notion… but if he were _wrong_ , showing interest in her activities would only worsen the issue.

The woman didn’t make it easy to affect boredom. The Longbottoms were enamored, and it was easy to understand why. Geraldine Wright’s patriotic duties included nothing less than dropping bombs and flying jet planes, facts which both Neville and Luna were aware of and eager to hear more about. The younger woman shrugged off her friends’ fascination, insisting that exploding things with magic was more exciting by far.

“And anyway, I didn’t get to blow anything up. Once you’re out of active duty, a couple weeks a year the RAF has you participate in training exercises…guess they’re worried war will break out and I’ll have forgotten how to let the computer do my job for me.”

Severus cast a surreptitious glance at Wright’s face between bites of roast potatoes. Her cheeks were flushed from the eager attention of her friends, and her face held poorly disguised enthusiasm. She was trying hard to be modest and doing a poor job of it. It reminded him of the day he’d met her–it was customary for Professors to deliver Hogwarts acceptance letters in person when a magical child was born into an all-Muggle family, so the situation could be properly explained. He performed one or two of these deliveries every year, and in 1995 he’d been obliged to confront the Wright family with this news.

_The mother was not in the picture. The girl was raised by her father, the executive of a large technology firm. They resided in Bath, in an historically affluent neighborhood. The little girl’s fine sateen dress bore a little tear in its hem. She had a scraped knee on the same side as the tear, making him wonder whether she’d been climbing trees. She sat straight backed and polite while she received her letter. Her eyes shone with awe and pride even while she tried (and failed) to keep a straight face. It was rude to look too pleased with one’s self, and obviously the child had been taught as much…_

He became suddenly aware that Wright was looking at him looking at her.

“Just target shooting, nothing that fun,” Geraldine Wright of the present day continued, looking away from him as though she hadn’t seen him looking. Her face went redder. “It was great to fly again, though.”

“I’m grateful for your safe return to Earth and to Hogwarts,” Luna lifted her glass in tribute to her friend and took a sip.

Wright looked relieved for the segue into a new topic and immediately launched a campaign of distraction, “I hope I didn’t miss anything exciting while I was gone. Were my little potioneers attentive listeners during your lectures Neville?”

And as the conversation pivoted to plant specimens and the youths’ interest therein. Wright’s absence was forgotten and life resumed as normal.

Until Wednesday morning.

Severus awoke at his usual time and performed his morning ablutions as he normally would. Before arriving at breakfast his chief concern had been with finishing breakfast quickly. His lesson plan for first period was entirely practical, requiring him to rearrange the furniture in his classroom. He’d realized just as he slipped into bed the night before that he’d failed to ready the room in advance.

Several faculty members had chosen to forgo the morning meal, including Minerva and the Longbottoms. If the young couple chose to… _sleep in_ on a weekday it was hardly his concern. Just thinking it had his face twisting into an unpleasant expression. Minerva, though, was of great concern to him. He would seek her out if she failed to appear at lunch.

With the staff table missing numerous bodies, it was impossible to ignore those remaining. That meant he had to interact with Wright even if he sat far away from her, which he did. He bid her good morning when he passed but received no response.

Severus stopped in his tracks, “ _Professor Wright_ ,” he repeated, louder. Her head jerked up, she swiveled in her seat to find the source of the noise. When her eyes met his he saw they were quite glassy, and her face was ashen.

“Huh?” She looked baffled.

“Good. Morning.”

“Oh, sorry, Professor. Good morning…” she turned back around, effectively dismissing him. Which was fine. Excellent, even. Preferrable to her coquettish little smiles and the unsubtle glances she’d been casting his way for weeks. If she were as sick as her appearance suggested, he was perfectly happy to avoid prolonged interaction with her.

The first two periods of classes proved frustrating, setting the tone for the day as one of irritation. His students were inordinately distracted by the first quidditch match of the year that weekend, and very few cast a successful counter-spell in either class. The exception, unfortunately, was a pair of fifth year Gryffindors in his second period who took flustering him as a point of pride–James Potter and Rose Granger-Weasley. The duo had already proved themselves insufferable in just the first few weeks of classes. Both took too much after their fathers _and_ mothers, living concentrations of their parents’ most obnoxious traits. They spent the entire period showing up their peers, looking far too pleased with themselves when he had no alternative but to use them as examples for successful casting.

Severus had almost forgotten his concern for Minerva when the bell rang for lunch hour. She was present in the great hall and looking in good spirits…seated beside Miss Wright, who had undergone a complete reversal in appearance since last he’d seen her. His former student sat beside the headmistress, smiling and laughing too loudly at something the older woman had remarked.

He slipped into the empty seat beside Minerva, careless of the fact he’d interrupted their little chat.

“You were missed this morning, Headmistress,” he informed her levelly.

“Why Severus, you warm an old woman’s heart,” her eyes sparkled, she laid a hand on his arm briefly in acknowledgement. “Was there something you needed from me?”

Once she’d released him, he went about assembling a plate of crusty bread and cheeses. On Minerva’s other side Wright was well ahead of him, eating ravenously. She’d already finished her meal and advanced to pudding. Color had returned to her cheeks, suggesting she’d taken something to remedy her earlier illness.

“No, I was merely concerned you might be unwell,” he continued, “it would seem flu season has begun already.”

Wright choked on her coffee, diverting Minerva’s attention. His young colleague shot him a sharp look but was obviously hiding a smile in her napkin while she waited out her coughing fit. Laughing could not be helping her catch her breath. Though she obviously understood his comment was directed at her behavior that morning, the woman said nothing.

The headmistress looked at each of them, making an exasperated face at whatever was going unsaid between them. With the air of a woman who had ceased to care what inside jokes her subordinates weren’t letting her in on, she continued the conversation. “Rest assured, I feel perfectly fine aside from a bit of joint pain. It has been unusually damp this week, don’t you agree?”

And that had been the end of it.

Until dinner.

With his classes mercifully concluded, and his preparations for the following day’s classes complete, Severus arrived in the Great Hall just ahead of the castle’s other inhabitants. Having his pick of seats, he secured one at the end, guaranteeing he’d have just one side to make inane small talk on. His sour mood must have been palpable, as the chair beside him went unfilled until it was the last one open. He ate hastily, hoping to finish in solitude and escape before someone could turn up to fill the empty seat.

The mealtime had nearly reached its end when the chair beside him was carefully pulled back. Of course it was _her_. Wright settled gingerly beside him and looked nearly as ill as she had in the morning. It was as if she’d had a dire relapse in the five hours following lunch. Her face was not nearly so pale as it had been in the morning. She appeared to have more of an appetite than at breakfast, cautiously sipping from a bowl of soup which had helpfully materialized in front of her when she’d sat down.

Absolutely none of their colleagues seemed to notice her diminished condition, Severus noted with annoyance. As usual, he alone had the situational awareness to spot a drowning Slytherin. With almost nothing left on his plate, he slowed his eating just to create a pretense for his continued presence.

“You know, Neville,” Minerva leaned past Filius to address her fellow Gryffindor, “you should be on your guard. Our most ambitious faculty member may be out to acquire another subject for her teaching roster.”

“Oh?” Longbottom said with a confident smile as he turned to give his friend a mock-suspicious look. “What’s given you that idea headmistress?”

“Why because our dear Geraldine has added yet more foliage to her quarters.”

Wright stirred and blew on her bowl, appearing unaffected by the gossip as it persisted. She did not chime in until addressed directly.

“Gerry, have you been stealing cuttings from my greenhouses?”

“I prefer to think of it as borrowing without permission,” she murmured into her water glass, sipping briefly before continuing, “and this one’s a mundane plant, Wisteria.”

“Indoors?” Neville looked impressed. “You say mundane but you’re growing magically.”

Filius made a contribution to the conversation with subdued amusement, “when I popped in last week to return your book, I noticed the vines had nearly taken over the entry way.”

“It’s welcoming,” Wright insisted, sounding excessively tired. She did not look up from the spoonful of soup she was blowing on.

Severus froze in the act of cutting his last bit of roast beef into an even smaller bite, no longer hungry but trying to look busy. “Floriography, Miss Wright? How quaint.” That explained the towering white hollyhock which bloomed perpetually in both her offices. ‘ _Feminine ambition_.’

She turned to give him a snide look. “Pretending not to be interested in the subject after revealing you’ve memorized some of it, _Mister_ Snape? How hypocritical.”

“Professor Snape likes it because it’s esoteric,” Neville said, still wearing that satisfied smile. “What’s your excuse, Gerry?”

“She’s a romantic,” Luna demurred to give her husband a soft smile.

“Totally unlike our Severus,” Minerva added.

“Professor Snape,” Wright ground out with irritation that seemed playful rather than sincere, “may I propose a brief truce to retreat from these tiresome Gryffindors?”

“Ravenclaws,” Luna and Filius both chimed in, voices staggered, Lovegood’s with more compassion and Flitwick’s more fierce.

“Positively no one cares,” Wright sneered and stood.

She rose much too gingerly for Severus’ liking; something was plaguing her. Risking possible contagion, he took the provided opportunity to stand as well and offer her his arm.

“Such chivalry,” she arched an eyebrow at him as he led her away from the table, “be careful I don’t grow used to this soft treatment, Sir. You’ll need to insult me on the way.”

“Miss Wright, I scarcely think you’re capable of finding your way in your current state,” he answered frankly. “You look horrible.”

“Gee thanks…don’t concern yourself with my state,” she muttered and sounded very tired.

“Who accused me of being so?”

“Nice.”

“I suggest you return to your quarters.”

“I will, until it’s time for Film Club.”

“And you really think you’re in any condition to supervise? You’re denser than you let on.”

“There he is,” she smiled at him and squeezed his arm, but carefully did not answer the question.

Severus only sighed and remained in cold silence as they descended into the dungeons. She tried not to wheeze in the chilled air but failed to fully mask the sounds. He abruptly released her at her door and stormed away, resigned himself to inspect her at her work later in the evening.

When he did, he found the door to her first-floor classroom was open and was able to observe her from the darkness of the deserted foyer. She stood beside a projection screen, its image frozen on a well dressed couple evading an explosion. She looked to be in excellent health as she gestured energetically and lectured those assembled about something called a ‘green screen.’

Clearly, she’d taken something for her condition. Why a potioneer of her alleged skill could not see fit to take consistent dosages for consistent improvement escaped him. He fully intended to do some lecturing of his own on the subject and further resolved to confront her that night at the beginning of his patrol.

He arrived at her door as planned just past nine o’clock. She should have just returned from her club meeting, but he was surprised by the length of time it took her to answer her door. She opened it only a sliver to reveal bloodshot eyes and pallid face. She had already changed into a nightgown.

“What’s the trouble?” she asked with a furrowed brow at what must have been a scowl on his face.

“My question precisely,” he felt ire choke him and heard the resulting growl issue from his throat. “You are not caring sufficiently for yourself, Professor. It is unbecoming of this establishment’s potions mistress.”

“Mind your own goddam business, Snape,” she snarled and attempted to slam the door in his face. He easily overpowered her with one hand on the wood.

“Why have you allowed your curative to wear off? And in front of your students, judging by your pallor.”

“How do you mean?” Taken aback, her posture changed abruptly from anger to wariness.

“I mean I saw you in your classroom not an hour ago, cheery as the blasted summer sun. For you to look this way now means you must have deteriorated as soon as I left.”

A look of relief swept over her, and anger flowed back into the fill void her anxiety had left. She spat at him, “once again, Sir, I urge you to kindly _fuck off_.”

Severus was repelled by strong magic without incantation. His back hit the wall behind him, though not painfully so. The sick woman’s powerful outburst surprised him, and he failed to prevent her successfully closing the door. Rather than press his luck with a further knock, he stormed up the narrow stairs to the entrance hall for the second time that night, no closer to resolving the uncanny feeling of fear churning in his belly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) "O-Zone lair" is an intentional misspelling. I won't lie - Snape substitute teaching Muggle Studies was 110% inspired by Stephen King's Dark Tower books...Roland trying to order a tuna fish sandwich is what FUELS ME. Strong Snape vibes from Roland in general, TBH.
> 
> 2) If I've made any mistake in describing the terms of service for someone in the RAF please forgive me. Any errors do not intend disrespect.


	4. Chapter 4

Stalking the halls often allowed him reflection and de-escalation, but he had no such luck that night.

_‘Kindly fuck off’_ echoed through his head as though his brain had inexplicably transformed into a stretch of endless canyon, each syllable reverberating in his skull on an endless loop.

The first and only other time she’d said those words to him she’d been thirteen. Her father had been there, and rightly had not reprimanded his young daughter for the profanity, seeing as how Severus had just called them filth and advised the girl not to return to the school that autumn, as their kind were no longer welcome.

_“I don’t understand. Two years ago you came to tell us she had the_ ‘precious gift’ _of magic, you convinced me to send her away to a place I’d never heard of or seen so she could be_ ‘educated’ _and now she’s not_ good enough _for your bloody school? I ought to strike you where you stand, Sir.”_

_Geraldine had stood in front of her father, ready to protect him if Severus made the wrong move. He had been a killer, after all, though it seemed she had not revealed this fact to her parent. Would she now? Would he have to suffer being called a murderer by another under his care as he desperately tried to save them?_

_She had cried hard under the gaze of his disdainful mask, but stayed silent until he concluded, “I was forced to tolerate and accept filth within our esteemed academy…” he looked her right in the eye and in his most sinister tone said; “until I freed us all from such obligations quite recently. Go back to public school, Miss Wright, where you belong.”_

_“Fine,” she spat, “then kindly_ fuck off _, Sir.”_

He had taken it as a bittersweet achievement. Another life saved through cruelty. The adolescent trauma might linger, she might feel inferior all her life, but she would live. She would not suffer the horrors his comrades gleefully planned for her and her kind.

It was nothing like the frustration that had simmered under his skin when the sick woman slammed the door in his face that evening. He had no achievement here, and worse had failed to save her from her own self-neglect despite his best efforts. In 1997, her defiant, tearful look had haunted him. In 2019 he felt only resentful fury that she would not allow herself to benefit from his harsh help… _and shame_ , murmured the dark voice in the back of his mind _because her inferiority makes her feel she does not deserve help._

Wright avoided him with great efficiency the next morning at breakfast simply by not turning up. She had two periods of double N.E.W.T potions back-to-back before lunch (sixth and then seventh years). He had the same immediately following lunch (which she also did not make an appearance at), but she could not hide forever, as they both had the following period free.

Severus cornered her in the potions corridor as she attempted to vacate her classroom. She saw him and sighed, her entire body rippling with resignation. Wright held the door open and gestured for Severus to enter.

“Why Professor, what a surprise to see you. You know, I thought you’d turn up at film club last night, but I never saw you. Interesting you mentioned having stopped by to check on me. That either makes you a liar or a spy…oh, wait!”

“Funny how you should mention my previous vocation,” Severus ground out between clenched teeth, “as it’s the instincts developed by that work which bring me to you this afternoon. You see, Ms. Wright, something doesn’t quite fit. The more I consider your wildly varying condition the more my suspicions grow.”

“Oh? And what conspiracy theory has your brilliant, paranoid mind concocted?”

Severus ignored her question. “A potioneer of your _caliber_ –if I may borrow a phrase from you–would not lapse her doses so carelessly. Your sickness is inconsistent, abruptly there and gone.”

Gerry threw herself down petulantly on a nearby stool and crossed her arms over her chest. She watched him with a haughty look that boiled his blood. Severus stalked toward her slowly. He placed one hand before the other upon the tabletop and crept closer, hand over hand until their faces were so close he could not see the entirety of hers within his visual sphere.

“You are calling me suspicious to deflect from your own suspicious behavior. You are _up to something_ and it is only a matter of time before I deduce the cause. Certainly, nothing becoming of an instructor at this institution… substance abuse, perhaps?”

She did not so much as flinch away from him, which only increased his ire. He knew that he was close. It was the only thing that made sense, but she did nothing to confirm it as truth.

Then she blinked, and surprised him, “you are far too perceptive for your own good, Professor Snape. It is shocking to me that the Dark Lord allowed you to live so long when you are so dangerously astute.”

“Don’t-” he exhaled hard through his nose, felt his elbows lock and his arms tighten painfully as every muscle inside him went tight as a wire. “Don’t …you … _dare_!”

“What? Speak the truth. You were his downfall, and it’s clear why. You should be proud. But regardless…it’s one thing to suspect it. Just try and _prove it_ , you _bastard_.”

Severus’ anger threatened to boil over, and he forced himself to reign it in. He wouldn’t debase himself by rising to her bait.

He squeezed his eyes shut so he wouldn’t have to look at her obnoxious expression and stated in a calm, even voice, “unbelievable to you as it may be, I am concerned for your wellbeing.” He paused before adding softly, “and the wellbeing of those under your supervision.”

Wright said nothing. Severus opened his eyes and found he had dropped his chin during his recitation and was now looking at her full lips. Quickly returning his eyes to hers, he saw they’d narrowed into slits.

“I don’t _want_ your concern for my wellbeing or anything else!” she snapped. “I want you to-“

“If you tell me to fuck off one…more…time…”

He let his threat hang. Her mouth snapped shut. Then immediately reopened, “what, Snape? _What_?”

They were closer together than he’d intended. His hands were trapped between the worktop and the side of Wright’s body. The velvet of her robes pricked his skin, rubbing against the grain as she shifted forward invading his personal space in a bid for counter-intimidation.

She wasn’t as good at it as he was. Her gardenia perfume ruined the effect.

“Get the hell out of my classroom.”

Severus looked her hard in the eyes a moment longer and swept away as requested, taking his turn to slam the door on _her_.

He took points with gusto the rest of the afternoon and evening, for infractions real and perceived. None dared to protest. At least the children knew to bow to his will, even if _some impudent adults_ were too foolhardy to do the same. As usual his best efforts and advice were not worthy of those he tried to bestow them upon.

Potter had offered him another chance, but it was just the same as the last. Just the same as the first. What was the point?

Despondent, he laid awake in bed. Questioning himself, questioning everything. Hating Potter, hating himself, and especially hating Geraldine Wright.

By morning, hate transformed into apathy. If she would not permit his aid, so be it. She was being a bitch and he’d likely had a hand in shaping her so. He knew that. Could understand it, even. She had the right. But she was alive. She was alive, and powerful, and had never been tortured by the Carrows and he could accept that much. He wished to forgive her for being unable to forgive him, but it was not in his nature to let grudges pass. For as far as he’d come since this new life began, the faults in his character so severe he himself could see them were so ingrained it seemed there was no escaping them.

He resolved to watch her…from a distance. He could not help her if she would not accept it. But as soon as she slipped up, he would go to Minerva. As soon as he had evidence of her addiction, he would see to it she was _forced_ to accept help from the headmistress. He was reminded painfully of Draco, and the year the boy had refused his council even as he plotted murder.

These thoughts occupied his mind as he descended from his tower rooms to his office. He’d been in no mood for grading the previous night and now had to fit in marking a stack of first year parchments before 2 o’clock.

Upon arriving at his classroom he found the door ajar and his hackles rose. It was an hour before curfew ended. No students should await him inside.

Severus hovered just outside the aura of torchlight at the door, listening intently from the dark for intruders. No sounds issued from inside, and he quickly entered to survey the room. Nothing looked to be disturbed–

A glass flask was sitting at the center of his desk. An amethyst-colored hyacinth had sprouted from its mouth. He stared at it, absolutely baffled, while comprehension danced just out of reach. The presence of this object made sense, but he couldn’t say why. And then the answer slid effortlessly into view:

Floriography.

A language spoken in flowers instead of words, created for sending secret messages. One in which purple hyacinths meant sorrow and reconciliation.

He circled slowly around the desk, inspecting from all angles the flower which was blooming five months before its season. The buds at the bottom had begun unfurling into their star shape, lined above by rows of cascading purple bells that ascended into tightly furled buds.

He rapped the side of the flask. The flower jiggled but did not disappear. Severus withdrew his wand and tapped the side of the bloom.

“ _Finite incantatem_.”

The hyacinth dissolved into golden smoke inside the flask and dispersed through the air as it was disturbed by his breath.

An illusion, then. And a good one that had moved realistically in the flask when disturbed. How long would it have lasted had he not undone the spell? Would it have finished blooming? He suddenly regretted ending it.

There was only one person he could think of who’d have left it.

Severus rose from his desk, marking forgotten, and proceeded to the dungeons. It was Friday, Professor Wright had potions again all day.

He knew her to be an early riser and was not disappointed to find her in her office doing some marking of her own. She looked up when he entered, face writ with anxious uncertainty. She said nothing and instead awaited his reaction.

Severus hadn’t considered what he’d say. He watched her watch him for a moment as he gathered his thoughts.

“Miss Wright…you were only my student for two years, but you should remember I expect an explanation when I receive an apology.”

Her gaze dropped to her marking, though her hands were still. She nodded slowly and raised her head to meet his eyes. “Alright,” she set down her quill.

Severus sat across from her and waited.

“I am not abusing anything,” she told him, “I am sick.”

“ _With what?_ ” he pried when no further information was forthcoming.

“ _The flu_ ,” she said as though this were obvious. “Or, I was. Fine now.”

“Never have I seen a flu come and go as capriciously as yours has, Miss Wright.”

She had no answer for this and pointedly resumed her marking.

“You are taking the appropriate potions, I’m certain.”

She hummed in affirmation.

“Which you brewed yourself.”

Another hum.

“Potions which a competent first year could produce. Potions which I recall yourself making acceptable attempts at in _your_ first year.”

“Are you going somewhere with this?” she asked softly, scrawling a short blurb in the margin of the essay under her quill.

“I do not believe you would have such serious relapses if you were merely sick. You are clearly engaged in something nefarious and I’m not going to leave it alone until you tell me _what it is_ …or perhaps I should take my concerns to the headmistress?”

Wright set her quill aside and laid her hands daintily in her lap. When she met his eyes once again her face was more guarded than he’d ever seen it. “Sir…you have done a great deal for our people, and for me in particular. You saved me from torture and oppression. I am very grateful. I am not going to answer your questions because I want you to have plausible deniability.”

He sneered, “how admirable.”

“Haven’t you had enough of keeping secrets? Telling lies for other people? Leave this alone.”

Severus snorted. “A tiger cannot change its stripes, Miss Wright,” a sharp smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and he indulged the urge to smirk at her viciously, “I am what I am…and what I am now is suspicious. Tell me what is going on or I shall incite a higher power to investigate.”

“Jesus Christ,” her hands shot up to rub her temples as though Severus were a migraine she could soothe away. “ _Fine_. You are damnably persistent, aren’t you?”

“So I’ve been told,” he replied, setting his elbows on the edge of the desk and tapping his chin impatiently while she gathered her words.

Eventually she shrugged, a visible expression of ‘ _what the hell?’_ and said simply, “I have a time turner.”

Severus’ cruel smile dropped away instantly. “The ministry collected and destroyed all remaining time turners.”

“Yes, and you can see they did so with their usual level of competency,” she said and from a hidden pocket in the breast of her robes she withdrew a stunning golden time turner. It hung at the end of an elegantly braided gold chain which disappeared into the velvet depths of her vestments, tethered somewhere inside. Chips of sapphire in the setting of the device sparkled, polished so highly that they caught and refracted even the low light of the dungeons.

Having seen her family home on two occasions, Severus was aware that Geraldine Wright came from a well-to-do family. Even if the time turner were a piece of jewelry and nothing more, he thought the craftsmanship and quality of materials might still be above her station. That it was also a forbidden magical artifact of tremendous power made it nearly impossible for her to have acquired it.

And yet there it was.

She tucked it back into her robes and set her hands in her lap once more. “I went through yesterday twice.”

There was no relapse then, when she appeared sickest he’d been seeing her in her first time through. When she seemed to have recovered it was the second time.

“Have you any idea how _dangerous_ -? How _reckless_ what you are doing is?! The smallest mistake could have cataclysmic consequences!”

“ _Yes_ , I have memorized everything Croaker wrote about time travel and its perils. I take every precaution. I am extremely careful, Sir.”

“What gives you the _right_ -?!”

“I can’t do all three of my jobs in a single day!” Wright objected.

“And your jobs are important enough to risk the FABRIC of _TIME and SPACE_?!” Severus found himself on his feet, leaning across the desk to tower over her.

“YES, THEY ARE!” she leaped up, and for the second time in as many days he found his face far closer to hers than he’d intended. The air had grown thick with the static of roiling magic, though neither of them had broken anything. Yet.

Wright took a step back and raised her hands in a gesture of surrender. In a too quiet, too calm voice she continued, “Slytherin house has never had an association with Muggle _anything_. I am trying to do something important here…for the world. _Fuck_ , I know how trite that sounds but…”

She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, folding her arms over her chest and looking stoically down at the floor.

Severus lowered himself back into the guest chair and waited. Wright sighed and took her own seat again.

“Why continue with all three of your positions? Perhaps another professor could be obtained for potions?”

“You volunteering?” she raised a brow at him.

“Gods no.”

She sighed, “the truth is, I use potions as a funnel for Muggle studies. It’s a core course. They are my captive audience for five years; I have every chance to ensnare them. I’m making some headway getting the class opened up as an elective for all years, not just third-year and higher as it is now. I hope that from there…before I retire, maybe I could get it to be compulsory. Just for a term! Like flying.”

Severus steepled his fingers and looked her up and down. “You are an idealistic fool,” he informed her without true malice. Her desire to _better the world_ was nauseatingly endearing.

He took a moment to consider himself as a young man in Professor Wright’s class. He would _never_ have elected it…but if it were required…he seriously doubted any experience in her class could have altered the disdainful perspective he’d had on his staunchly muggle upbringing…but perhaps there could have been a chance.

“How many Slytherins are in your Muggle Studies course?” he asked.

Wright’s entire face lit up, “all but twelve of them.”

That was…staggering. He tapped his chin again.

“Very well. I shall keep your secret, with the condition that you share with me your ‘precautions’ so I may be assured you are as careful as you claim.”

Wright narrowed her eyes at him, perhaps insulted by his doubt, “two heads _are_ better than one…supposedly.”

Severus sneered at her but said nothing more before sweeping out of her office into the classroom. He chose not to slam the door, but it settled closed with more force than was strictly necessary, and he leaned against it for a moment.

As stupid as the behavior was, and as angry as her carelessness made him, reprimanding her for too hard or long would only close her off. He was no longer head of house, but that did not mean he had no responsibility for protecting the younger generations of serpents.

Severus strode over to the in-room stores. From amongst the dried plants he extracted a bare length of filbert branch, stored dry for its bark.

With two taps of his wand, the branch was revitalized and sprung into flower. He levitated his own gesture of floral reconciliation over to the professor’s desk, thick strands of yellow male flowers unravelling as it went. The smaller female buds opened as the branch hovered above the ink blotter, unfolding to reveal their red centers.

He departed quickly to spare himself knowing what look crossed her face when she discovered it.

Wright wisely refrained from commenting on his nauseatingly sentimental apology. He thought he might have hexed her if she were ever to bring it up. She paid him a polite smile when they’d next passed each other in the corridors, but she mercifully left it at that.

By that time winter had begun its reign over the castle in earnest, and the many inhabitants spent as little time away from the hearths in their common rooms as could be managed without failing classes. Or, in the case of the professors, without getting sacked. Term ended without any tragedies, which was a tally for the win column as far as Severus was concerns. The vast majority of students returned home for Christmas, making the holiday blessedly quiet. He was shocked on Christmas morning to receive a number of gifts from…he supposed they were his fans. A terrifying prospect. Names he did not recognize or barely recognized until he slunk into the school’s vault of records to look them up. A Slytherin who’d been in seventh year the first year he’d taught, whom he did not remember. A Ravenclaw who had graduated the same year as his mother. The others were perfectly mysterious.

He recalled watching the outpouring of admiration and hate Harry Potter had occasionally received in the Great Hall throughout his school career, and Severus took a moment to fear for his personal privacy. Was that what his future would hold? What would happen should he dare live a life outside the fortress of refuge Hogwarts provided?

There was no parcel from Potter, for which he was thankful. If that fool ever gave anything else to him, Severus would have to enter indentured servitude with the Potters to reply his extensive debt. He did receive a card, though, signed by all members of the little golden family. Harry had thoughtfully scribbled an invitation for Severus to come visit them during Easter Hols, which he most certainly _would not_. More irritating than that misguided offer was James’ contribution to the missive. He was even more unbearable than his father and grandfather combined, Severus decided, purely based on his constant state of good cheer.

_Happy Christmas, Professor Snape! I’m studying extra hard and can’t wait to see you again NEXT YEAR! Get it?_

Severus briefly contemplated tossing the offensive article into his fireplace… then set it neatly atop the mantle. He’d save burning it for another day when he needed a pick-me-up.

On New Year’s Eve, Minerva did no less than command his presence at the holiday staff party, an annual headache he’d dearly hoped had fallen out of favor while he’d been in the grave. He obliged the woman, making an appearance precisely at nine o’clock when the _fete_ was scheduled to begin. He took up position near the bar, allowing him to perform the expected task of speaking with each of his colleagues when they arrived (for every one of them went immediately to the booze) and then be relieved of them once they’d got their drink and dispersed to mingle with the other attendees. The trick to this strategy was making one’s exit before partygoers were ready for their second drink. If you were caught in conversation at that stage, there would be no escape.

He had begun to fear he’d reached just that moment as Filius and Hagrid came back ‘round together for their second cups, much sooner than he’d typically expect. He had seen neither Jacobus, the other new professor he’d spoken to on all of three occasions since the start of term, nor Professor Wright. As the dichotomous duo of half-giant and half-goblin moved in to flank him, he decided he was ready to give up waiting for anyone who’d arrive fashionably late.

“Oi you two, Luna’s giving palm readings. Better get in while the getting is good!” Wright proclaimed, appearing suddenly from within Hagrid’s massive shadow.

To Severus’ pleasant surprise, this tactic worked, and he was spared the neck pain sure to come from looking up and down at each of the other men’s faces as they spoke.

Wright slid seamlessly past them and surveyed the available beverages, settling on a mead Minerva had received from Rosmerta at the Hog’s Head and graciously shared. She wore diaphanous chiffon robes not unlike the gauzy things she wore every other day of the year, though these were an ice blue he had not seen before and had a bit of sparkle for the holiday. The color nicely offset the healthy color of her cheeks and the dark pink of her obscene little mouth.

He caught himself staring at her lips again and quickly downed the rest of his own drink for a distraction.

“I was unaware Mrs. Longbottom was performing palmistry this evening,” he said when Wright came to stand silently and expectantly before him.

“Well, she wasn’t. She probably is now, though,” Wright laughed. “Hope she knows how!”

“How disingenuous of you, Miss Wright. I’m shocked.”

“How many drinks do you need before you’ll call me Geraldine, Sir?”

“More than I plan to have this evening.”

“Oh that’s too bad. Don’t think you’re going to make it to midnight?”

“Certainly not. In fact, I am planning to leave now.”

Wright was too mature to try goading him into staying, but he could see on her face that she was disappointed by this information.

“Creature of solitude, huh? Gonna go drink alone in your quarters and fall asleep by ten?” she teased.

“Actually, I had planned to return to my office and catch up on some work…so I can relax the rest of the holidays. And if Minerva should notice my absence, well, I think she’d be unlikely to try looking for me there tonight.”

Wright laughed unprettily at that, not a polite chuckle but a _real laugh_ that startled him into smiling. “Godspeed, Professor,” she said gravely.

He gave a little bow, waited for Minerva to turn her back and slipped stealthily out of the staffroom.

When he entered the corridor, he found Luna Longbottom staring intently up at the ceiling. She had dressed in all white for the occasion and was wearing a crown of lit candles which threatened to slip off her head due to its sharp tilt.

He couldn’t be sure if she noticed his approach or not, she didn’t acknowledge him. Severus placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and murmured a helpful sticking charm, affixing the woman’s flaming circlet where it was.

“Oh, thank you, Professor Snape,” she smiled but did not turn her head to look at him. As she always seemed to, Luna radiated a contagious tranquility. “Say, have you seen that maiden hair yet?”

“…Excuse me?”

“The maidenhair fern. I saw it in your cup. It’s been months…do you know what it means yet?”

“Ah…no. That is more your area of expertise than mine, Madam.”

“Hmmm. I think you’ll figure it out. Would you like me to read your palm?” Luna drifted in a slow circle, utterly enthralled by the vaulted ceiling overhead.

“That is quite alright. Actually, I should be going…” he ventured politely. Not wanting to initiate a long conversation about something incomprehensible, he chose not to ask what is was she was looking at, and simply made his way down the hall and up the stairs to his classroom.

The creak of his office door roused Severus from unintended sleep. He jerked his head up from his chest in time to see Wright press open the door and hover in the archway.

“What is it?” he snapped, irritated that he’d apparently nodded off and shorter than usual on friendly greetings.

Wright stood there. Her hands were braced on either side of the frame, fingers squeezing tight as if upon a lifeline. Her body was too rigid, he could see her bosom rising and falling rapidly with tight shallow breaths. Not quite panting but the slim bodice of her robes was doing her no favors. Not for breathing in any case, it was doing quite a few favors for her cleavage.

“Well?” Severus sat up a bit straighter himself, her unease putting him on edge.

“I…I uh…” Wright began but could not seem to proceed. Her lips stayed parted as though she were about to speak, but long seconds spread without further words.

“What…are _you_ …doing _here?_ ” he bit out slowly in hopes the decelerated syllables would have better success penetrating her thick skull. Was she drunk?

“It’s nearly midnight,” she blurted out and firmly closed her mouth.

“Have you taken a blow to the head or are you purposefully obfuscating?” Severus growled and stood, rapidly losing his patience as his concern that she may truly have been hit in the head grew.

Wright took two halting steps toward him when he stood, prompting him to move closer to her. She looked deathly pale, as though she were about to collapse in fear. Her hands were clasped to her chest. He could barely make out her eyes in the low warm candlelight, but her pupils were dilated.

The clock bell began its final toles of this year, and the beginning of the next, and Wright froze midstride. Her cheeks suddenly flamed as the bells rang, and as the color spread Severus felt an answering realization washing over his own face.

“You’re-” he felt his mouth go dry. He stopped perhaps three steps away from her, swallowed, “you came here for…?”

“What do you think?” she breathed.

“You tell me,” he said, unwilling to make a fool of himself by muttering the words aloud. He was certain, but if he said it then it would be real, and perhaps she’d lose her nerve. Realize what a horrible idea it was. Laugh and deny him to cover her own shame.

“I…” Gerry began and once more stopped. She looked at him with a pleading expression alien to his perspective of her.

The bells ceased tolling. Silence reverberated between them louder than the chimes. He watched as it galvanized the woman in front of him. Her cheeks flushed ever darker even as her eyes hardened.

“I want to kiss you,” she said.

Severus gaped at her, awed by her bravery and her poor judgement. “ _Why_?”

“What do you mean, ‘why?’ Has no one ever wanted to kiss you before?”

Severus felt his own face burst into flame and imagined the redness of his cheeks rivaled hers. He opened his mouth to sneer some sort of cutting remark. He’d come up with the words any moment now.

“Wait! Sorry, not a polite thing to say. I just mean…you’re mysterious and brooding. You have this…magnetism. And I’m some silly woman throwing herself at you,” Wright sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose as though warding off a headache.

“You aren’t silly,” Severus murmured. She looked up at him with surprise. “Most of the time.”

Wright huffed out a disbelieving laugh. “Please end my misery and either kiss me or send me away. Quickly.”

“Why rush? Afraid you’ll change your mind at 12:01?”

“No, I’m afraid if this gets drawn out for much longer it will become impossibly awkward and I’ll lose any chance of _ever_ kissing you,” Gerry spoke softly but with strong emotion, as she closed the space between them, her hands still pressed tightly to her chest as if to physically shield her heart from his rejection.

Severus found he was looking down his nose at her, she was a good deal shorter than he’d noticed before. The top of her head barely came up to his eyes. It wasn’t until he was looking down into her lovely face and wondering if he should pull her up or bend down to kiss her that he realized he had _decided to kiss her_.

She was waiting fearfully. With her body so near his he could nearly feel the rise and fall of her chest against his own. Her eyes flicked between his own and his mouth. He felt himself mirroring the behavior without consciously choosing to. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips–he wasn’t sure if the gesture was unconscious or if she was far more subtly seductive than previously thought but either way it worked–and he was closing his eyes and leaning down to meet her.

Gerry took a sharp breath through her nose. Severus found he’d grasped her hands and pulled her forward at the same time he’d lowered his mouth to hers.

They held perfectly still against each other for a moment, then each one warily drew back a short distance. Just enough to look at the other with mild trepidation. Gerry leaned forward again, coming up on her toes to kiss him again.

He held on to her hands as tightly as she’d held the doorjamb moments before. Her mouth moved against his with extreme caution. So, so slowly bringing their lips together and parting minutely, pressing tighter and shifting away, soft and warm. He worried his own skin was cold against hers for the warmth he felt from her.

If it was, she seemed to like it, for she turned her wrists to hold his hands properly. Twining their fingers together she rested her forehead against his cheek.

“Has your curiosity been satisfied?” Severus asked in a tight whisper he might never have recognized as his own voice.

“No. It’s been piqued,” Geraldine murmured against his jaw, and an actual shiver went down his spine at the feel of her warm, moist breath on his neck.

Severus tilted his head down minutely to bring their mouths back together. Releasing her hands he let his own drift down her shoulders to her arms, coiling his fingers tightly around her biceps. She in turn wound her arms around his waist and pressed the full length of her body to his. Buoyed by her ardor, Severus felt a bravery well up inside him he’d only ever associated with acts of sedition and violence. He surprised himself by confidently running the tip of his tongue over the curve of her lower lip. It must have been a surprise for Gerry as well for she gasped into his mouth. The beautiful sound lit a fuse in his heart, spreading heat all through his chest like a fever, and he desperately craved to hear it again.

He was gratified almost immediately when he grasped her face tenderly and held her in place to kiss her more thoroughly. She gave another breathless gasp as she accepted his tongue into her mouth, then moaned for him when he licked deeper into her. If the gasp had made him feverish that moan could ignite spontaneous combustion. Her fingers wound into his hair as her body melted against him, his gut clenched with a wave of pleasure so strong it made all the muscles in his abdomen tighten painfully.

With tremendous restraint, Severus drew firmly away from her, enough to put some inches of cool castle air between them. Their arms stayed wrapped around each other as they exchanged an uncertain look, unsure of what to say next.

Eventually Severus cleared his throat, though it didn’t prevent the gravely rasp which emerged with his words, “have you had enough?”

Gerry smiled with a predatory glee, “not nearly.”

Severus shuddered in her arms, humiliatingly transparent in how affected he was by the lust that colored her voice. Her fingers played with the hair at the nape of his neck, she licked her lips again and he barely suppressed another shudder at how swollen and wet they were. How many times he’d caught himself staring at her beautiful pouty mouth and now it was slick with his spit. This vixen was looking up at him with pure desire glinting in her eyes. Desire for _him_.

“Why?” he asked himself again, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Did you miss the part earlier about how you’re mysterious and brooding? Women find that irresistible, you know. Some men too, I guess.”

“They most certainly do _not_ ,” Severus scoffed. “ _I would know_.”

Gerry laughed, totally without malice. She smiled at him gently, “well, I think you are mistaken, Sir. There’s nothing more tempting than a man who’s trying to keep the world at arm’s length.

“You are deranged,” Severus informed her, and privately thought that he wouldn’t mind taking advantage of the fact. “And quite probably a masochist.”

Geraldine Wright at that moment became the first woman to look at Severus Snape with bedroom eyes. “You’ll have to try it and let me know…” she said, leaning in to lick his neck just below his ear. She mouthed along his jugular and nibbled the hinge of his jaw, “but the truth is I want to be the only girl you’re _nice_ to.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Severus would have leveled a glare at her had her face not been pressed against his neck. He turned his head when she grasped his cheek and allowed himself to be pulled into another kiss. He sighed against her lush lips, permitted himself the indulgence of licking and sucking them now he could finally admit to himself he wanted to, now while he still could before she realized tomorrow morning that she’d snogged the greasy potions bat.

Only she was the potions mistress, now. Not him. That wasn’t who he was anymore. No, now he was the greasy defense bat.

Gerry ended the kiss, tenderly smoothing his hair back into some semblance of propriety after having mussed it terribly winding it ‘round her knuckles.

“I wouldn’t want you to be too nice, though,” she whispered into his mouth and bit his lip.

“Never fear,” Severus acknowledged.

Gerry smoothed her hands down his chest and slid them into his outer robes, held him tight around the middle as she pecked his lips once more. Twice more.

Severus smothered the groan that threatened to erupt from his chest as she finally pulled away. Without another word, Gerry made her way to the door. She stopped and turned to look at him again before she crossed the threshold and slipped out into the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have so many more flowers for you, friends. Hopefully their meanings are clear within the text of the story, but just in case...  
> Hyacinth, purple: sorrow & "please forgive me"  
> Filbert: reconciliation  
> Maidenhair Fern: secret love & discretion


	5. Chapter 5

“Miss Wright,” he greeted her coldly at breakfast on New Year’s Day. Upon waking that morning, he’d promised himself he wouldn’t approach her with any expectations. He wouldn’t be prey to her whims, living and dying by whether she wanted more. Even with his resolve set in steel, the mere sight of her sent his heart and stomach into conflicting maelstroms of hope and terror. Wright wore her hair tied up in a ribbon, leaving all of her pretty face bare.

Had he ever noticed her _hair_ before? His palms sweat. His robes chafed.

Undeterred by his hostility she offered a warm smile, “good morning, Professor. Happy New Year.”

Severus harumphed and strode past her, finally sitting with several empty chairs between them. She hid a smile with her teacup.

He stared moodily down at his food through the meal, thankful for the subdued banter which came with the large number of hangovers gathered at the table. After finishing his last spoonful of porridge, he left abruptly and began the retreat upstairs to his quarters. By the time he’d made it to the second-floor landing of the grand staircase he’d gained a pursuer.

“Are you truly this desperate?” he threw over his shoulder, neither stopping nor turning to face her.

“ _Desperate_? No.” Wright retorted, gaining on him. “Bored? Horny? Oh yeah.”

Severus slowed his gait and paused on the third-floor landing so she could catch up to him.

“You have no clue how desirable you are,” she told him softly, discreet despite their total isolation in this part of the castle. “I hope to correct that egregious injustice.”

A snort escaped him. Try as he might to behave contemptuously, he was so unused to flattery that it was startling him into high spirits. “Again, I must ask if you’ve recently received a blow to the cranium.”

“Not recently…unless you count last night. It was a _mind-blowing_ experience.”

“You’re exhausting.”

“I’d like to be exhausted by you.”

“ _Woman_! What must I do for you to leave me in peace?” Severus hissed and turned on her. She gave him a sly smirk and he rolled his eyes. “ _Apart_ from _that_. Leave me be, witch.”

“On one condition…” she teased, placing her hands on her hips and cocking her hip. Cold January sun poured through a stained-glass window behind him, draping her in softly glittering blocks of red and green hued light, altering her shimmery taupe robes into a Christmasy patchwork. The ruby color shining on her face hid its true color.

“Do I even have to guess?” he asked with dryness in stark contrast to the wetness of his sweating palms. He prayed his cheeks weren’t flushed.

“I doubt it,” she smiled saucily and wound her arms around his waist. Severus felt a smirk of his own spreading across his face. He placed his hand on the small of Geraldine’s back and drew her near, giving up all pretense of annoyance.

Nervous butterflies whipped the porridge in his stomach into an unsure sea. He’d had his tongue in her mouth for a straight seven minutes less than ten hours ago, yet the same delicious anxiety he’d felt before unfolded below his navel.

She rose on her toes again to kiss him chastely, waiting until he moved to deepen it before she rubbed her whole body up the length of his. Severus threaded his fingers into her hair this time, found the end of the ribbon reigning in her tresses, and tugged it so the strands fell loose around her shoulders. He played with her curls, feeling lighter in his heart than he had since he was perhaps…ten or twelve years old?

This thought brought with it an image of his first love and only true friend’s heart stopping smile.

Severus felt Gerry pull away, her face twisting into confused concern. It occurred to him that he’d stopped kissing her as soon as he’d thought of Lily. The novel butterfly sensation came crashing down with the too familiar conflict and guilt.

“I’m coming on too strong, aren’t I? It’s too much too soon, I’m sorry. I just…you’re so _exciting_.”

“I…” Severus found himself at a loss for words.

She pulled the ribbon from his limp fingers and had it winding back into her hair with a wordless spell and a flick of her wrist. Watching her do it only made him realize how debauched she looked with her hair down.

He’d done that to her. It was both painful and titillating.

Gerry put a hand on his shoulder and smiled again, “would you like to have tea together later?”

“...yes. Later.”

“Lovely, I can’t wait,” she smiled, then winced, “I mean I _can_ wait. I _will_ wait. Indefinitely! No pressure.”

“Merlin’s beard, woman, I am not a china doll,” Severus huffed and brushed her hand away so he could properly storm off. He kept his gaze fixed resolutely ahead, not daring to turn and see whatever look she was wearing. He wasn’t sure what would be worse–a wounded frown or a fond smile.

He sequestered himself in his rooms for the rest of that day and well into the next, taking meals at the small table in his chambers. The uncertainty as to how she’d look at him after his minor tantrum left him paralyzed. Resigned amusement? Sorrowful betrayal? Haughty indifference?

By the dozenth time he was replaying the scene in his mind, her joyful bawdiness and desire for him, the weightless feeling of his heart before it hardened and plummeted like a stone into his belly… he realized he’d stopped feeling churning guilt for Lily mere hours after the encounter. He’d been feeling churning humiliation for his embarrassing behavior towards _Geraldine_ for nearly two days.

The longer he put off reunion the harder it would be to go through with it.

Severus scribbled a brief invitation before he could lose his nerve and closed his eyes to narrow his focus on the destination for the small roll of parchment. He pictured in his mind the desk in the weirdly austere office on the first floor, the little inbox on the right corner of her desk, and with a sharp exhale the scroll apportated hopefully to the top of the stack in that little box.

He returned to his reading but could not focus on the words, totally preoccupied with how long it might take her to reply. After twenty minutes or so he finally found his focus and returned to his studies. Within a number of hours, he received his reply.

Her handwriting had once been familiar to him, when he’d been her professor and graded her essays. Many times he’d deducted points from her ranking for poor penmanship, but on this particular afternoon he found it charming. She’d rushed to respond. Probably she’d only returned to her office scant moments before sending her response.

The exclamation points suggested a level of anticipation that rivaled his own. He’d called her desperate yesterday without meaning it, and her enthusiasm made him confident that she wouldn’t see his outreach as desperate.

A light rap on his door at the appointed time signaled Geraldine’s arrival. She came bearing a potted white violet. He glanced down at it, then at her.

“Secret messages, Ms. Wright?”

“Hardly, Professor. It’s wasting away in my dungeon. You must have actual sunlight up here…” she said and strained to look past him into his apartments. Severus made a gallant gesture for her to enter and closed the door behind her.

“Violets do not like to be in the sun.”

“You’re perfect for each other, then.”

She gave him a playful look as she sauntered into the center of the room, doing a little turn to take in the décor. If literature could be considered décor. He supposed in his rooms it could. There was little else.

“Does Madam Pince know you’re sleeping in the library annex?”

Severus crossed his arms and propped himself up against the sideboard to wait out her antics. He said nothing.

“Oh, you’re no fun. Do I at least get a tour?”

Severus arched a brow at her, “do forgive my lapse in manners. Just through that gilded door is the conservatory, and to your left, you’ll find an arcade leading to the gymnasium.”

Wright looked at the towering bookshelf to her left, then around at the three other book-laden walls, “no thanks, I’m not up for that long a walk. In any case, neither sounds like the right place for Violet. The bedroom, perhaps?”

“You want to see my bedroom.”

“I want to find an acceptably dark place to set this down,” she hefted the small pot as though it were considerably heavier than its size suggested.

“By all means,” he drawled, approaching her with intent. Her eyes burned into his as he passed her at a slow gait to hold the door open for her.

She paused at the threshold to survey the space before entering. He watched with mild apprehension as her gaze swept over the admittedly dark space, suddenly self-conscious of his spartan sleeping arrangements. The dark wood of the four-poster dominated the room in a way that hadn’t seemed obscene until this moment when it was all there was to look at.

“Hmm perfect,” Gerry smiled and strode over to the bedside. A small alcove in the wall remained empty but for a smattering of candles. She pushed them to either side and placed the violet in the center, then moved to the window to draw the draperies aside ever so slightly, flooding the alcove with indirect light.

“Northern exposure?” she asked, peeking outside to get a glimpse of the grounds for her bearings.

“Correct,” he drew the word out, trying to affect boredom and not let on how the sight of her loitering by his bedside set his heart to racing.

She ran her hands along the stone of the alcove, then strolled past his bed, giving it a once over and coyly looking up at him from under her lashes. Geraldine let her fingers run fleetingly up the spiral curve of the bannister closest the door and dropped the seductress act.

“That should do nicely,” she said with a genuine smile, and Severus could not recall hearing a _double entendre_ delivered with so much sincerity ever before. Not that they were often delivered to him at all.

“I think we’re done in there,” she brushed past him on her way back to the living area.

“Are we then?” Severus teased but closed the door behind her. “There’s nothing else you need to inspect?”

“Not unless that’s where you store your teacups.”

He placed his hand at the small of her back and directed her to the sitting area where they took their tea and engaged in the sort of halting conversation typical of two people desperately trying not to appear desperate.

He shared with her some minor details of his upbringing, carefully circumnavigating the more unsavory bits and deflecting with questions about her own.

She told him what sounded suspiciously like a postcard version of a posh childhood in Bath, avoiding any references to the war, her absence from school the year he’d been headmaster, or her return to schooling following his death. When they reached her post-graduate activities, she briefly acknowledged her service in the Muggle military as a Weapons System Officer.

“What led you down that particular path?” he asked, refilling both their teacups.

She laughed and accepted the cup from him, their fingers knocking together awkwardly as they negotiated transferring the hot china. “Honestly? To get out of going to business school. Dad wanted me to become an entrepreneur or something. No thanks!”

“Surely there was another option. Why flying?”

She shrugged, “my grandfather was in the RAF. Grandad was so pleased by my choice; Dad couldn’t really say much against it. And…I wanted to serve. Give back, you know. My family has so much. Just about every Muggle home in the country has a product powered by our company’s technology. I felt like I owed everyone something.”

Severus blew lightly on his cup, disturbing the steam steadily rising from its rim. The vapors spun and tumbled as he surveyed her. She shifted restlessly under his gaze, unsure what he’d think of her motivations.

“I’m sure it sounds stupid.”

“You never sound stupid, Geraldine,” he assured her and she beamed, either from the compliment or because he’d used her given name. “I might know something about feeling you are indebted.”

She gave a soft smile, then looked at him even more anxiously than before. “And erm…since we’re talking about my service, you should know…” she cleared her throat, visibly gathered her courage, then blurted out, “I’m divorced. He… we met on an airbase.”

A stab of jealousy twinged in Severus’ chest, and he had to remind himself the word she’d used was _divorced_. This other man wasn’t in the picture.

“Well,” Severus began, then frowned. He hardly knew how to invite a woman to his rooms for tea. What was the appropriate response to this sort of proclamation?

“I’m not- he isn’t- we’re just friends now,” she floundered verbally.

“Right.”

She pivoted the topic of conversation suddenly to his opinion of various academic journals. He allowed the change in direction, recalling her bittersweet enthusiasm discussing her leave of absence for ‘training exercises’ earlier in the year. Had she seen her ex-husband then? There was some baggage there she did not wish to unpack, and he was equally eager to edge away from uncomfortable subject matter. When she finally bid him goodnight, he was surprised by the number of hours that flew by whilst they were engaged in comfortable conversation. The sweet kiss she placed on his cheek before she made her exit was not surprising at all. The knowledge of more to come lingered in his chest like a warm weight all through the evening and into his sleep.

Students returned the following afternoon. The cacophonous bustle of the castle was a splash of cold water on the surreal experience of alternately hiding from and snogging a beautiful young woman.

He certainly didn’t expect her to act differently around him in public spaces. If she had he’d put an end to the whole thing in an instant. Nonetheless, her indifference toward him at mealtimes and in the halls only enhanced the strange feeling that their meetings had been mere fantasy.

On the third day after term resumed, he received confirmation their dalliances were not a fabrication of his depraved mind.

After his first NEWT class period, a tall and willowy seventh year girl with sharp brown eyes approached his lectern as her peers filed out.

She was Miss Ruby Pratt, head girl and Geraldine’s prized student. Gerry spoke highly of her often, giving Severus the impression she was grooming Pratt for an apprenticeship. She was decent enough at Defense but it was clear she had no passion for the subject. The young woman hardly ever seemed to smile, her personality as severely straight as her long golden hair. He supposed that with a name like Pratt life in a boarding school might grind the mirth out of a child quickly and thoroughly.

“Sir,” she greeted him perfunctorily and extended an envelope towards him, “from Professor Wright.”

“Have you read this?” he asked sharply, jerking it out of her hands a bit too quickly to avoid looking suspicious himself.

“No, Sir,” Pratt’s face changed abruptly into a moue of stark offense, as if he’d asked her whether or not she’d kicked a sleeping puppy. “May I be excused?”

Her speech bordered on haughty, but he waved her away impatiently. He didn’t have time to scold her for cheek.

Pratt gave an abrupt little bow and retreated, casting a disapproving look over her shoulder at him as she went.

The very second he was alone he tore open the seal to appraise Geraldine’s note. Inside was a small slip of parchment with nothing more inked upon it than the number ten, and a single small leaf he recognized instantly as having been plucked from a sprig of mistletoe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Apportation is a concept stolen from D&D. I think? I tried to look it up in my player's handbook before posting and now I can't find it. Lol magically making an object appear in another place. Distinct from conjuration in that you're teleporting something, not summoning/creating it. I don't think this type of magic appears in HP.
> 
> 2) Floriography....  
> Violets, white: "Let's take a chance"  
> Mistletoe: "kiss me!"


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's where we earn our explicit rating, friends. 
> 
> For those of you who have been reading as I've been posting, please be informed that chapter one has been updated with [Tehriel's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tehriel/pseuds/Tehriel) fabulous artistic contribution to our team's Bang entry.

He arrived outside her door, which had been his door while he’d been head of house, at three minutes to ten that night, A few minutes early, but he happened to know her duties had concluded at nine and she’d had plenty of time to prepare for…whatever was about to happen. Kissing, he presumed, based on the greenery he’d received.

Gerry opened her door and, after a brief survey of the corridor for witnesses, pulled him inside.

Immediately he was overtaken by streams of purple and white blossoms cascading down from the ceiling along the walls of her entryway. Wisteria, he remembered the other faculty ribbing her for this installation. It was…prodigious, but the sheer volume of plant material transformed the little alcove into something unrecognizable. It recalled nothing of the dreary little place he’d hung his cloak for more than fifteen years.

“I see you got my message,” Geraldine’s arms wound about his neck without hesitation and she pulled him for the promised kiss. Her soft mouth opened to his immediately, her body melting against his. Severus could see why people did this on the regular. He reveled in the soothing familiarity her presence was coming to provide.

Soothing, but not relaxing.

His cock stirred almost the second her lips touched his. A tight grip on her hips allowed him to keep her safely away from the growing hardness in his pants, but she was undoubtedly more experienced than he, and the knowing look she gave him when she broke away suggested she understood why he was keeping her at a distance.

“Would you like a drink?” she asked, taking him by the hand and leading him inside where he could assess the rest of her renovations.

Wary of losing his inhibitions around this woman who made him hard up in less than a minute, he decided, “perhaps not.”

The shelves which he’d once filled with countless tomes were largely empty. Instead, strategic groupings of books, photographs, knickknacks and yet more plants had been assembled at methodic intervals. The paintings and tapestries that had occupied the space even before Severus were still where they’d always been, but with a few additions. The overbearing leather couch and armchairs had been replaced with smaller pieces upholstered in neutral textiles.

Gerry guided him over to her settee. “Alright. We could listen to music or…how do you feel about Muggle cinema?”

“I feel that I would like a drink after all.”

She laughed musically, utterly unoffended by his comment. Gerry poured him a single shot of whiskey and set it on the low glass-topped table in front of his seat, then settled in beside him.

From the same table she picked up a long, black block and pointed it at a painting of a regal looking German Shepard he did not recognize. Only it wasn’t a painting, it was an enormous photograph, and when she touched her finger to one of the keys on her block it winked into blackness. After a moment the blackness melted into an array of swirling colors and a welcome message. She navigated through prompts and passwords that came and went more quickly than he could read them.

He cast a glance sideways at her, and found she was giving him an appraising look as well. Did she want him to be impressed? It was a telly, _obviously_ , though significantly more advanced than any he’d come into contact with in his early teens. His family would never have been able to afford one, but Mr. and Mrs. Evans had kept a state-of-the-art model proudly on display in the den. When they wanted to flip through the four available channels, Lily and Petunia would argue over whose turn it was to sit on the floor beside the device and spin the knob.

“You aren’t going to ask me to stand next to it and fiddle with the antennae, are you?”

Gerry barked out a laugh, taken aback by his technical know-how. “Fortunately for you, there’s no antenna anymore. At least not on this one. I’m using the internet.”

Knowing well he’d likely get one of her instructional lectures if he asked what _inner-net_ was, he asked a question of greater intrigue, “how do you get these devices to function within the castle? Where are you getting electricals from?”

A little smile twisted her mouth, she bit her lip like she was trying not to laugh at him.

“I don’t run them on _electricity_ ,” she corrected, and he felt his cheeks color. “I power them with magic. Don’t tell the kids! And by the way, getting an internet connection down here is a gargantuan feat of intellect and hardheadedness. I know you don’t understand it, but you should still be impressed by it.”

“Should I?” he teased, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Absolutely. My brilliance should actually be turning you on a little.”

A slew of possible responses to that statement flooded his mind, all of which were lewd and most of which bordered on filthy. He didn’t think dirty talk would go unappreciated, but it felt too soon. He had a feeling it wouldn’t be much longer before he’d share those sorts of ideas without a second thought, and something like optimism took root inside him.

Warmth filled the air between them as she scrolled through endless titles. Severus tossed back his drink and waited, grudgingly intrigued by the operation. The number of options was preposterous.

“I want to show you something good, but I’m worried it will ruin you for everything else…” she murmured.

“I promise you, this won’t be happening again,” he told her and set his glass down on the table meaningfully.

Gerry shook her head and smiled while she poured another shot for him, “Mando it is then…you don’t know about Star Wars, do you?”

“I do not.”

“Prepare to be educated.”

He snorted with derision, and in response, she gently slapped his chest…and left her hand there. She pressed against his side and his clothes felt suddenly suffocating. A light sweat broke out across his chest.

The program engaged him, to his pleasant surprise. It provided enough distraction for his blood to cool until she shifted against him, and he became acutely aware that soft curve was her breast sliding along his ribs as she settled deeper into him.

Severus cleared his throat and gently pushed her away so he could stand.

“Too much?” she asked, looking a bit embarrassed.

He shook his head and had to clear his throat again before he could answer, “no. No, it’s fine,” and shuck off his robes. On further thought, he removed his waistcoat as well.

When he sat back down Geraldine cautiously resumed her position leaning against his side, and this time Severus wrapped an arm around her shoulders to hold her close. He found himself wanting to know what would happen to the rogue on screen and devoted his attention there. He may not have done so as ardently were he not trying to keep his mind off the curvaceous temptation resting her hand innocently on his thigh.

“Did you like it?” she asked once the hero was victorious and the credits were rolling.

“The medium is as sinisterly enthralling as I remember,” he admitted. The glass she’d refilled for him lay untouched on the table. Conceding that he’d identified with the taciturn protagonist would only encourage her unseemly unmagical behavior. Then again, the story appeared to be episodic, and he was reluctantly curious what other adventures the Mandalorian might be embroiled in.

Gerry hummed and leaned up to plant a kiss on his cheek. Severus turned his head to offer her his mouth instead. A soft moan spilled forth from her lips as he licked his way inside and pressed her down into the cushions. Surprisingly strong arms came up around his middle, dragging his weight more fully onto her. The desire she showed sent a thrill down his spine to the tip of his aching cock. He’d never gone completely soft while they’d watched their program, and it was becoming painful.

Feverish kisses and the gentle rocking of her hips up into his hardness had him shaking, so close to the edge. Geraldine broke their kiss and ran her fingers through his hair, stroked his forehead and his cheek, her body stilled under his.

“Is this okay?”

He huffed out a soft laugh, “Is that really a question?”

“Yeah,” she gave him a gentle but serious look. _Aggressive compassion_ , he thought. “You don’t owe me anything, you know.”

There was enough restraint left inside him that he could kiss her chastely, to his own surprise. His erection throbbed incessantly, not at all put off by the serious talk.

“I don’t believe I owe anyone anything anymore,” he told her, the quiet truth of it filling him up fuller than even the lust thrumming under his skin.

“Good,” she smiled so brightly he had to look away. Focused as he was on the shape of her beneath him, his gaze drifted down to the neckline of her dress. Peeking out from the lacy hem was the golden chain she wore underneath.

He laid his fingers on the sensuous line of her neck and traced the edge of the chain down to where skin ended and fabric began. Her breath caught in her throat and she tensed under him, then went limp with a disappointed sigh when he withdrew her timeturner and proceeded to examine it more closely than he’d been able to previously.

“This again?”

He tilted it from side to side, watching the light from the telley glint off the gilded surface, careful not to activate the mechanism, “where did you get this?”

“It was a gift,” was her succinct reply, firm without being terse.

“From whom?” he glanced at her sideways momentarily and continued his examination. Severus had no education at all concerning jewelry and could not gain clues regarding the craftsman from the piece’s features alone. It bore no maker’s marks, either.

“A patron who recognized the importance of my endeavor.”

“Teaching the children about our non-magical neighbors, you mean.”

“Of course. I could have stepped down from my position as professor of potions, but we agreed there was no one _living_ who was suitably competent…and I believe I already mentioned my pipeline tactic.”

“So you did,” he murmured. “You’re not going to give me a name, are you?”

“Plausible deniability,” she reminded him, beginning to squirm a little underneath him.

He was smiling, Severus realized when he felt the curling of his lips turn mischievous. Very slowly he tucked the time turner back into her bodice, pressing it down between her breasts, his fingers skating over her cleavage on their way out. Geraldine’s mouth went slack, her breathing quickened. Supporting himself on an elbow he ran the pad of an index finger over her clothes along the shape of one breast. The caress probably couldn’t be felt through her brassiere but she shivered nonetheless.

She was begging with her eyes, and he indulged her only a little by cupping her eager bosom through her dress, rubbing his thumb over the place he supposed her nipple was hidden.

“Severus,” she moaned for him.

“Hmmm?” he leaned down to lick and suck at her jugular.

She gasped, “ _gods_! Don’t you want me?”

“I do,” he hissed into her ear, “but I don’t see you’ve done anything to deserve it, keeping secrets from me.”

Gerry whimpered. He felt the noise against his lips and his cock jumped at the wounded quality of it. Damn if telling her no hadn’t made him _harder_. He really must be a sadist, after all. The thought of denying her sent a jolt of pleasure so intense through his balls he had to withdraw from her lest he lost all control and rut against her.

“I see how you are,” she sighed and sat up, but her eyes were playful. “Too bad, really. I liked where that was going.”

“I suspect you’ll have the chance to earn my good favor another way,” he told her. “You could try begging, for example.”

Gerry gave a little laugh and relaxed back against the settee. “What incentive is there for that? I can take care of things myself, you know,” she cupped her own breasts over her dress as he had and Severus’ mouth went dry. Her naughty hands slid down her body between her thighs and rubbed lightly over the place he was starting to dream of putting his prick.

“Good lord, woman, you’re going to have off in front of me?”

A lovely flush spread over her face and chest, but her fingers continued lazy circuits over her clothes. “I like to be watched,” she admitted breathlessly and his cock throbbed so hard he had to squeeze it through his trousers. “Even more than you apparently like denying yourself.”

A harsh breath escaped him. She knew better than he did, clearly. He was out of his depth.

“Thank you for a lovely evening,” he could hear how low his voice had gone as he peeled his fingers away from his aching member.

“You’re welcome,” she assured him. “I hope you stay longer next time.”

He gave her a jerky nod and wrapped himself up in his robes to obscure the tent in his trousers, then slipped out her door before he could change his mind. The maelstrom of desire–both to come inside her, and (strangely) to not come at all–made his head spin. He wanted her; of that he was certain. He wasn’t sure he should go through with it, though.

“Don’t give yourself blue balls, love!” she called after him and he jumped, looking up and down the corridor to ensure no one was around to hear. He slammed the door behind himself and slumped against the wall. His face was burning. His _loins_ were burning.

He knew he was _disturbed_ , he’d been through too much…but leaving a woman he wanted to shag, who wanted to be shagged by him, without shagging her? Fucking mental.

Severus would have stayed and seen the thing through had he known what agony the trek to his quarters would be with his cock that hard. As soon as the door to his rooms was closed behind him, he shoved a hand down his pants to start jerking with abandon.

Was she touching herself thinking of him now? Had she already finished? He could picture her coming on her own fingers, moaning his name as she had when he’d rubbed her nipple, and he was coming himself without disrobing or even moving past the entryway.

Professor Wright didn’t seem at all put off by his sudden exit the night before. She gave him a little smile when he saw her at breakfast, much friendlier than she typically allowed herself in the public areas of the castle but not so familiar as to give them away.

He avoided her as best he could the following two days, hoping to clear his head.

Fraternizing with one of his colleagues did not strike him as especially pragmatic or wise.

The line of no return had, in a way, already been crossed. Consummating it didn’t seem to be a step much farther down the road to hell than he’d already gone. He tried to imagine what would happen afterward.

What if he were rubbish, and she scorned him? What if she got one look at his scarred, scrawny body and he lost all his allure? What if she fell deeply in love with him and he bollocksed it up?

That last seemed the most likely, long term.

He’d seen how women were when the novelty wore off and the passion was gone. First his heart would be crushed, then his reputation destroyed.

It was an unnecessary risk, he decided. He should never have allowed it to progress so far as it had. It was a good thing he’d aborted the whole endeavor when he had. What business did he have entangling himself with someone else when he hardly understood what he wanted? If he cared for her at all…and he rather suspected he did…he should do her a favor and keep his emotional distance.

Severus’ resolve evaporated the moment he entered the staffroom and found Geraldine (and not one other soul) inside.

The younger woman briefly looked up from the journal she was reading to ask how he was doing, to which he gave a snarky remark purely by reflex. She laughed and rolled her eyes at him, at his _antics_ , and returned to her reading. She sipped a cup of tea.

No overt displays. No pressure.

Nothing.

He moved to the sideboard to retrieve the book he’d forgotten there after the last staff meeting, and rather than exiting immediately to prepare for his next class, he found himself drawn to her. The siren.

“What are you reading?”

“Brewer’s Monthly,” she murmured. Touch her finger to the print so as not to lose her place, she looked up at him and captured his heart irrevocably by saying, “I don’t know why I subscribe when not one of these fools could pass my third-year exam. I swear every concoction is written just to use up herbs every witch has languishing in her spice rack.”

Sunlight in her hair, an exasperated twist to her luscious mouth. She was lovely and there was no hope for him. His damned palms were sweating again. He cleared his throat. “The piece on mortar and pestle substrates was at least factually correct, if not insightful.”

“I _know_ you aren’t defending this tripe. You’re just being contrary because you like to stir people up,” she smirked and returned to her reading, remarking lazily, “but I like it when you stir me, so please continue.”

“I ask that you refrain from innuendos involving stirring while we discuss brewing,” Severus slipped into the chair beside her and flung the periodical off the table from under her nose. “What are your plans for this evening?”

He met her at her door five minutes before midnight, when she was scheduled to perform patrol rounds. They snuck up behind a pair of second year Slytherins who were perched at the top of the dungeon stairs, surveying the entrance hall for teachers before they snuck out onto the ground floor. Upon being discovered, the pair claimed to be on their way to the kitchen. Instead of a midnight snack, they received a tongue lashing and returned to their beds with thirty fewer points for Slytherin house.

After thwarting that first attempt, the adults were as quiet as thieves in their stealthy circuit of the castle from top to bottom, both knowing the first two students were more likely sneaking out to meet others than they were to be in search of something tasty. Two full rounds revealed no other troublemakers, however, and they relaxed into snippets of quiet conversation broken by long stretches of comfortable silence.

After the intensity of their last evening together, he was relieved to find they could still keep up a professional demeanor when they were alone.

Severus struggled to remember what had him tied up in such convoluted knots of doubt, why his nerves had felt so frayed until his companion cleared her throat to draw his attention.

Geraldine was giving him that coy sideways look that meant she was about to kiss him, and Severus felt the kind of sweltering heat he associated with midsummer wash over his face and down his chest. Merlin preserve him if he were blushing.

She took his hand in hers and he worried fleetingly about how much he might be sweating, then forgot as she pulled him out of the moonlight streaming in through the windows. When they were safely ensconced in the darkness, partially hidden by the bust of a noble-looking goblin, she put her back against the wall and pulled him closer until he was bracing his hands against the stones and their lips met.

Gerry wound her fingers into his hair and held his face close as she moved her mouth against his. Severus kept his hands firmly against the stones for fear of where they might wander. His skin nearly vibrated against his bones under her relentless pace, as persistent and slow as waves eroding a shoreline.

“Touch me,” she breathed into him and he had to break away to catch his suddenly ragged breath.

Where? How? Uncertainty kept him paralyzed until she kissed him again and then confessed, “I’ve been thinking about your hands on me, ever since last time. I want you to touch me that way, Severus.”

He’d been thinking about it too, of course. Almost incessantly.

He let his hands slip from their chilly anchors to her shoulders. With a firm grip he pressed her hard against the wall and kissed her with more aggression. And gods, she let him. He sucked her tongue into his mouth, running his hands down over her robes to her breasts. They overfilled his palms but he spread his fingers wide to collect as much as he could and at her sharp inhale he bit her lip softly and _squeezed_.

“Please,” she moaned for him and his head swum. Her hands fell to his waist and pulled him closer, closer until his hips and thighs pressed firmly into hers. The feel of her soft flesh through the satin of her dressing robe was delectably sinful. His erection pressed deliciously against her thigh and he was torn between the pleasure of this new experience and fear she would think less of him for becoming so hard so quickly.

Instead she gave a pleased hum, grinding her hips into him. Gerry licked her way back into his mouth and murmured, “more, Severus, do more. Please more.” Molten desire swirled in his guts down into his balls. For a terrible wonderful moment he thought he would come just from the filthy rhythm of her tongue against his and her satin-clad thigh rocking against his cock.

“More…how?” he breathed against her cheek and hated himself for how eloquent it was not. Higher thought had abandoned him.

Gerry drew her leg up over his hip, exposing that blessed thigh to the night air and aligning the hard length in his trousers with the blazing heat of her naked quim. She hadn’t worn panties for this outing. She rolled her hips against his and Severus made a ragged gasp. He bucked against her and kissed her deeply, losing all control of his hips for a moment as they moved together.

Her hands were back in his hair. She used her grip to pull his mouth away from hers. She looked him in the eyes and begged, “fuck me, Severus.”

He hissed and dropped his head to her shoulder so he wouldn’t have to look at her beautiful sparkling eyes, at her swollen wet lips. He was going to come in his pants if he didn’t calm himself. Gerry either didn’t notice or didn’t care as she repeated herself, sending shivers down his spine.

“Fuck me, Severus. I want you inside, please, baby please, I’ve wanted you so long…”

He lifted his head and kissed her again just to shut her up. He had to get control but he couldn’t wait for it. His hands went to the tie of her robe and he yanked it open roughly. He lifted her night gown to find her positively bare underneath. The dark shadowed every part of her but it was more than he’d ever seen of a woman up close. He froze, raised his eyes to hers, unsure where to go next.

Holding his gaze, she reached for his fly to unbutton it slowly. Desire was etched into her every feature; her eyes shone with glee, anticipation colored the upward curve of her lips. She reached inside his trousers to grasp his erection, and he shuddered as she slowly closed her fist around him and stroked.

“Am I rushing you? Is it too fast?” she asked, not with genuine care but with a playful disingenuity.

“No,” Severus gasped as she rotated her palm against the tip, felt how wet his excitement made her skin, and he cursed himself for his tied tongue. “I want you,” he said simply.

“Then please, please give me this,” she murmured and released his cock to push his trousers and pants down his thighs.

She held her robes out of the way for him and he took his cock in hand. His heart thundered in his chest as he realized he had to now find her entrance and try not to look an utter fool in the process. They were fast approaching the furthest point he’d ever made it with a woman. Though he did not consider himself a virgin, the one previous attempt was perhaps not successful enough to qualify as intercourse.

And now he had to try and pull this off smoothly.

Severus kissed her again in a bid for distraction. She arched her hips forward and he used his hand to guide the head of his cock along her folds, drawing the action out in the hopes it would appear a teasing seduction rather than a desperate search. Gerry gave a little wiggle against him, her slick wet flesh gliding sensuously against him but no way in was forthcoming. He bent slightly at the knee to get under her, perhaps it was farther back?

She threw her head back and laughed.

Severus jerked his head up – he hadn’t realized he’d been looking down at the task at hand – and found her smiling giddily. The vice around his heart loosened cautiously.

“Look at us. Three minutes of snogging and we’ve forgotten we’re bloody wizards,” her laugh sparkled with ease and confidence. It bolstered his own and he found himself wearing a self-deprecating smile to echo hers as Gerry soundlessly broke her bond with gravity.

The buoyant witch bobbed lighter than air is his arms and pushed herself scant inches farther up the wall. She pulled her robes aside again to bear her legs and beautiful snatch, which he could still not properly see, Merlin, but his mouth still went dry at the shadowy implication of her baring herself to him.

His cock held out before him with one hand, he took her hip in the other and guided her weightless body onto his.

Once she was wrapped around the tip he had to hold her with both hands, keep her from sliding all the way down or he’d never last. His eyes found hers again and she beamed at him with total disbelief written across her face. Like she couldn’t believe he was holding her above him, pulling her so so slowly down his length. She gasped and then winced the deeper he went, gorgeous mouth hanging open on panting breaths. She groaned in pained pleasure as he buried the last few inches inside with a gasp.

“So _deep_ ,” she murmured and wound her arms around his neck. “So long, Severus, I didn’t know you’d be so long.”

He shook below her, entranced by her beautiful face, listening to her praise his cock. He grunted, “fuck.”

“Mmm please,” she said and lazily combed her fingers through his hair.

“Yes,” he groaned and lifted her just as slowly as he’d pulled her down. She moaned for him, the hedonistic little thing she was, and he couldn’t hold back a smile from her. She bobbed in midair for him, his hands on her hips tethering her to him, raising her up and pulling her down.

He kept the pace slow for as long as he could, until she begged him, “love, please, _harder_. Give it to me harder.”

He was going to come.

Severus pushed her roughly against the stones and left her there, half impaled in his cock. He had to stop or it would be over and it couldn’t be over yet. He couldn’t bear it if it were over already.

Instead of fucking her he kissed her. Held her still as she tried to rock down on him, bit her mouth when she protested. He knew–well, he had _read_ –about pleasing a woman with one’s hand but had never practiced the technique. Obviously.

He slid his hands up her belly to her breasts, allowing her to grind down and take his cock fully inside again before he pinned her to the stone with his hips, halting any further movement. He kissed her hard and swallowed her moans until she calmed, then let his fingers drift down to the place where their bodies met.

He massaged slowly across the area until he found what he was looking for just above where they joined. She squirmed against him, trying to press into his hand. He tried his best but found himself fumbling with uncertainty until she looked down at him with a look of understanding that sent blood rushing from his cock to his cheeks.

_She knows_.

As the humiliation began to twist in his chest her astute look became a smirk.

“The angle’s bad for that. Try using your thumb.”

He gaped at her. Then he followed her advice and found it to be much more ergonomic. He could feel her clitoris more clearly, but even if he hadn’t her sharp intake of breath would tell him he was in the right place. Gerry licked her lips and let her eyes flutter closed as she sighed, “ _yes_. Just like that, Severus. Gonna draw this out, aren’t you? You want to make me beg?”

An embarrassing noise escaped his throat and her smirk widened.

“Yeah, I’ll beg for you if you tease me.”

“Shit,” he swore and dropped his head to her shoulder. Squeezed his eyes shut. Counted his breaths.

Her hand laid butterfly soft overtop his own. She guided him into a circular pattern and pressed down with greater pressure. Gerry made a wounded noise and tossed her head back with eyes shut tight. He felt her tighten inside and his hips bucked forward of their own accord.

“Yes! Yes, please, please, Severus, please,” she babbled and he lost all reserve, stroking her and thrusting into her like a beast until she shouted. Her voice echoed in the stone hallway, pained and desperate. She tightened up even more inside and he felt a groan punched out of him as he came with her. The way she felt, the sound she made, the way she looked at him when she crested were more than he could bear. He came and came until his cock hurt. Severus buried a whimper against her breast and held her with white knuckles until the shudders ceased.

Gerry took a number of steadying breaths with his head against her chest. He listened as her breathing and heart rate slowed with his own, and as the passion flowed out of his heart he felt anxiety settle heavy in its place.

He feared to look up at her and see her reaction. Should it have been longer? He should have lasted longer. He should have asked before he… _ejaculated_ inside her. Without permission?

Severus steeled himself, prepared to eviscerate her verbally if there was so much as an impudent giggle, and raised his head. He was no coward!

Gerry wore a blissful expression. Her eyes sparkled when he met them. Severus couldn’t be sure what expression he was wearing but it couldn’t be especially foreboding because she gave him a soft smile. Or maybe it was a scowl after all and she simply liked it ( _or sees through it_ ) admitted deviant as she was.

Her muscles pulsed around him and he realized he was still inside her, though not for long as his cock softened and would soon force his withdrawal. Gerry reached down to press her hand to her dripping quim as he retreated from her. Severus hastily cast a cleansing charm over himself and tucked back into his trousers.

“You can feel free to do that to me again anytime,” Gerry told him, already clean and composed. The distance between them was closed with just one of her strides and her mouth found his once again before she drifted past him, continuing the direction they’d been going before their little interlude.

Apparently, they were to continue their joint patrol. She stopped and gave him a soft look over her shoulder as she waited for him to get moving. Once he joined her she took his arm, leaning her body into his. They continued in silence, mercifully finding no curfew-breakers to ruin the mood.

With her rounds completed, she parted ways with him at the entrance to her rooms. As it always seemed to, her kiss goodnight had his cock hardening in his pants, no matter how recently he’d had his way with her. He suspected he could invite himself in for more, but the tangle of nerves in his belly prompted him to retreat instead.

She looked a little disappointed he didn’t press his luck, which was reassuring, but he’d heard it was always best to ‘leave them wanting more.’


	7. Chapter 7

“Good morning, Professor Snape.”

Wright appeared behind his chair suddenly at breakfast, then slid into the empty seat on his left. Her hip brushed against his side as she did, and he had to focus all his energy on not reacting. Then he thought that no reaction was likely to be more suspicious and let himself go stiff. He directed a withering glare at her, which was halfhearted at best.

This, apparently, had no effect on her–either because she was playing the headstrong unaffected Slytherin or because being bounced on his cock the night before had made her truly immune to his ire.

“Oh Professor,” she selected a slice of toasted bread and began to spread marmalade over it, “I believe there may be a boggart in my classroom’s pantry. Would it be too inconvenient for you to stop by and have a look before my first class comes in? I believe you have a free period this morning…”

“I am surprised a witch your age requires assistance with such a mundane pest,” Severus took a bite of his eggs and watched a fire ignite in her eyes.

“Boggarts always turn in to something grotesque for me–not good breakfast conversation, I’ll spare you. I’d rather the children not see me wrangling it if I’m unable to dispatch it before their arrival. Surely you can do it faster than I,” she gave him a sharp smile and began to add eggs to her own plate.

“Then being it is already a quarter past eight, I suggest we proceed immediately.”

Severus stood abruptly and took no small pleasure in the longing look Wright gave to the breakfast she’d just finished assembling. Her eyes drifted to him and roved slowly up the length of his body. The heat in her face had vivid flashes of indecent memory sparking across his brain, he could feel blood swelling his cock. He twitched his robes about himself as subtly as possible to cover the reaction.

“Well?” he gave her an impatient look.

“Yes, Sir. You are right, of course.”

As soon as she made it to her feet Severus swept away, heedless of whether Wright was keeping up. They made their way across the hall and around the corner to the first-floor classroom door. Gerry unlocked and held it open for Severus to passed through. He turned, expecting her to close it and fly into his arms, but she only stood in the open doorway and watched him.

Severus gave her the impatient look again.

“It’s over there in the kitchen area, near the ranges and refrigerators. You know what a pantry is don’t you, Severus?”

Was there _actually_ a boggart? Disappointment flooded his chest with surprising magnitude. He felt his lips thin and face harden before he pivoted on his heel and marched over to the kitchen cabinetry near the rear of the room. The windows had all been shuttered, and Wright was apparently in no hurry to light the electronic Muggle torches, giving the large room a dusty amber glow as sunlight pushed insistently through the cracks in the blinds.

He could hear Wright walking behind him, veering right to the lecture area opposite the kitchen space. The sound of shuffling parchments floated over to his ears as he withdrew his wand and began opening each cupboard door. Lentils and dried noodles. Spices and flours. Plastic dishes and cutlery.

No boggart.

Barely repressing a growl Severus strode over to where she was making herself look busy over by the whiteboard. His frustration rising, he watched Wright arrange materials on her desk. When she did not notice his arrival, he cleared his throat.

“Hmm?” Gerry spared him a look over her shoulder.

“What are you playing at?”

She turned and leaned back against her desk to face him. “How do you mean?”

“There is nothing in the pantry beyond what I presume is its usual contents.”

“Of course not. That was a lie to get you alone.”

Severus felt frustration boiling over into actual anger. “And listening to me opening and closing cupboards like a fool gets you wet, witch?”

Gerry smirked and pulled her robes open to show him the long, fitted dress underneath. She plucked at the skirt up near her hips and slowly began to raise the hem a handful at a time. “Why don’t you come find out?”

His cock sprang immediately to attention. This time he did nothing to try and conceal it. Desperation clawed at his throat as she inched the dress up higher until his mouth went dry and the sight of her pussy bared to view in the middle of the dim, deserted classroom. He stared at the secret paradise between her legs, frozen for an agonizing moment of choking anticipation.

Then he remembered himself and cast a look over his shoulder. “You left the bleeding door open, woman!” he hissed.

“Yeah, I did,” Gerry dropped one hand to rub and pinch herself shamelessly for him, “don’t be scared, Severus, I won’t let anyone see…but it’s fun to pretend, isn’t it?”

_‘She truly has me by my balls’_ he thought and shook the paralysis off to close the space between them, barely restraining himself from actually running. Gerry pleasured herself under his gaze, the slick sounds of it making him harder still until he reached her and drew her against his body to devour her parted lips.

She forced him away from her only as much as she needed to tear open his belt and fly. Severus groaned into her mouth when he felt her fingers wrap tightly around his member, drawing him partially out of his pants as her fist stroked up and down at a faster pace than was wise if she wanted this to last much longer. He felt sticky silken flesh around the head of his cock and realized she was teasing herself with the tip even as she stroked him.

“Gerry,” he groaned and she shuddered in his arms. She regrettably released his cock and reached back behind her to shove the contents of her desk away. Parchments rolled and bounced on to the floor. Quill and inkwell and blotter skidded out behind her, the former two clattering to the stone under his feet as the latter slumped off into her desk chair.

“Fuck me right now, right here where someone might see us,” she begged, pulling him forward and she laid back on the ancient furniture.

Severus roughly pushed her legs apart and got his first eyeful of a dripping pussy. Wet with excitement for him, the scant light of the room played off the curves and folds and _Merlin_ he was going to need to get her spread open like this in a well-lit room _soon_.

Making the most of the moment, he relished in being able to thrust into her seamlessly this time, the mysteries of her body still partially cloaked in shadow but with her knees so far apart he could at least find his target.

He plunged into her ecstatically but stopped abruptly when she squealed in what sounded more like pain than pleasure. Gerry panted for a moment and looked up at him, “don’t stop. Fuck me, fuck me,” she chanted and Severus snapped his hips forward. Her brows drew together in a pained wince which was disconcerting, but she hadn’t stopped begging, so he obliged.

“Don’t you toy with me,” he grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled just enough to bring her head up so she’d look at his face. “You lied to me. Don’t ever lie to _me_.”

“I won’t! I won’t, I promise,” Gerry looked him straight in the eye with an intensity that made his guts burn, “as long and you give me that long cock. I know you can go deeper, fuck me deeper!”

Severus planted his hands on the desk and jerked into her harder. He couldn’t take his eyes off her face, so beautiful scrunched up in pleasure. Her eyes bore into him. Why she’d want to look was beyond him, he couldn’t be half as enchanting to watch pant and grunt as she was.

“Deeper,” she repeated and arched her back. Severus had to bite his own tongue when he felt himself slide farther inside her. She was so tight there, the juxtaposition of pillow soft flesh constricting hard around him made his head spin. His balls nestled into the cleft of her ass when he buried himself inside and stayed there, grinding against her when he couldn’t stay still, unable to keep thrusting without coming.

“Touch me,” Gerry pleaded, laying her hands on his biceps.

Severus tried to sneer but felt his increasingly treacherous face twist into a smile instead, “touch yourself, my little trickster.”

Gerry huffed, “fine, but hold my hips up.” Severus opened his mouth to deny her, but she spoke before he could, “I need it. I need you to fuck my guts. I want you so deep inside I taste it when you come.”

“Shit,” Severus scrambled to get ahold of her hips and lift them up off the desk. Gerry began rubbing herself furiously with one hand as he slowly resumed his thrusts, testing out the new angle.

“Mmm lean back,” she suggested and Severus’ obedience was reward with her eyes rolling back, “yes!”

He was deeper now than he’d imagined he could get. Gerry’s breasts bounced with every forward motion of his hips, threatening to spill out of her low-cut bodice. Her fingers worked in a tight circle above the place where they joined, occasionally brushing against his shaft on his out strokes. She was making the same pained whimper again and again as he picked up his pace.

With her free hand she pulled the satin of her dress aside to reveal a breast to him. Severus heard himself start to pant, felt sweat beading on his forehead as he watched light and shadow slide over her skin. He’d been _inside_ her _twice_ without really seeing her breasts. She was exquisite. He wanted to feel them bounce under his hands. Wanted to see her without a stitch of clothing on, spread out on his sheets while he fucked her like this.

“I-” he swallowed, “I can’t-”

“You _can_!” she told him, “I’m right there, Severus, don’t stop. I’m so close, I’m close.”

He heard himself whimper as he struggled to control his breathing, control his feelings, control his urge to come even as he pounded into her.

“Say something dirty and I’ll come,” she whined, her eyes shone with desperation. He could see her arms and legs trembling, teetering on the brink as he was. Only she wanted a push and he wanted to be pulled back.

Severus opened his mouth but could only moan. His mind was spinning and blank all at once. He didn’t know anything dirty to say. How could he be expected to think of anything when it took all his effort not to spill inside her?

Gerry squeezed and rubbed her flesh and Severus felt his balls tightening with inescapable pleasure. He couldn’t hold off.

“Tell me where you’re gonna come,” she choked out, speech broken by the impact of each brutal thrust.

He gasped as though emerging from water, felt his cock harden to steel and throb, couldn’t recognize the tight high voice that left his mouth, “in your _guts_.”

The first exquisite spasm of pleasure in his prostate came just before Gerry’s eyes squeezed shut and she cried out low and soft as she climaxed.

He felt the first jet of his release hit her flesh and slicken her channel as it rippled around him. A dam broke somewhere in his chest, “I’m coming right where you want it, just the way you want it,” he babbled mindlessly through his orgasm, jerking in and out of her, drinking up the lovely anguished expression on her face, “can you taste me, Geraldine?”

“Oh fuck _oh fuck_ I’m coming again,” she moaned and bucked up into him against her own fingers.

Severus slowed and stopped to watch her come on him again. She squeezed so tight inside the strength of her muscles pushed his softening cock out and they both gasped.

When she finally stilled she looked up at him with a dazed expression. “When did you turn into a sexpot?”

A startled laugh burst out of him, louder and more joyous than he could remember laughing in ages. It felt good. “I have always been a wanton hedonist, Miss Wright, as you’d well know if you ever paid attention.”

She snorted, “it’s hard to take your scolding seriously when your prick is hanging out, Professor Snape.”

Severus lowered her hips to the desk gently, then lowered himself on top of her to kiss her deep and slow. She moaned and wrapped her legs around his waist, tangling her fingers in his hair. He lost himself in her embrace, in the languid kiss.

“Silly me, I thought we were just going to have a quickie,” Gerry murmured. “Leave it to you to spend forty minutes working me over.”

Severus’ head snapped up, he looked around for a clock.

“Relax, we have oh…three minutes.”

“The sodding door is open!” he whispered angrily, looking over his shoulder as he cast a charm to remove the sweat from his skin and scrambled to tuck himself back in.

When he turned to look at Gerry again she was still perched on the edge of her desk with breasts and pussy bared.

“Do you _want_ to get caught?”

“No. I just like watching you get worked up.”

The warm affection that had welled up inside him was washed away by a torrent of rage. “I told you not to play with me. If you want to _expose_ yourself-”

“Severus, the door was closed the whole time,” Gerry said. He gave her an odd look and turned again to see the door was indeed closed. He huffed a sharp breath through his nose and turned again to watch her straighten her bodice.

“An illusion?”

“My specialty,” she confirmed, then smiled and beckoned him closer. “There’s one more thing I need before you go.”

“I am warning you one last time, Wright, I will not tolerate mind games and manipulation from you.”

“I’m sorry I tricked you…but I _did_ tell you I’d make sure no one could see. Now let me kiss you goodbye.”

Severus shook his head, “I don’t think I should give you the pleasure.”

“Suit yourself,” she shrugged and let her skirt down, then stood and returned the objects from her desktop to rights with a flick of her wand.

“You didn’t…clean yourself up.”

“Nope. I’m going to be sticky all day, thinking about you.”

Severus felt his cock trying to harden again, “ _Mercy_.”

“I suppose I’ll _have_ to shower tonight. So, I’ll need to get something else to remember you by later…”

She showed him to the door and opened it with a dramatic bang. The assembled students all peered curiously in at them, then shrank away when they saw it was Professor Snape who was exiting. His most menacing gaze ran over them as he swept away.

For all that the day had started well, it soured quickly.

Precious James Potter II took it upon himself to showboat excessively during the practical portion of their double lesson, resulting in an entire bookshelf being _Reducto_ ’d to ash. Furious, Severus had set a weeks’ worth of nightly detentions. As the words left his mouth it occurred to him that meant a week’s worth of evenings he himself would be unavailable for more of what had made his morning so lovely.

Potter was not at all perturbed by this development, to Severus’ chagrin. He had taken a liking to his surly professor and derived the same sick enjoyment from torture as the very woman he’d be keeping Severus from. He wished he could find a staff member the boy would be unhappy to have overseeing his detentions, but there was a dearth of faculty members meeting this requirement. They all loved or were loved by the Potter children.

Severus resolved to take his aggressions out on the next Potter he saw, which was Miss Lily Potter after the break for lunch. Bringing overeager little girls to tears was usually a gratifying experience, but Lily crumpled instantly under his scrutiny. There was no sport in it, and no fight in her that might be cultivated into strength. She collapsed into tears at his first unkind word. His unkind warmup, really.

Seeing the hurt on her face (in _those_ eyes) reminded him too much of his first friend and awakened inside him a primal urge to do physical harm to whoever had made his Lily cry…which of course was himself.

The nausea and loathing that settled over him lingered well into the evening, causing him merely to pick at his dinner. Geraldine was notably absent from the meal as were a number of students he knew to be heavily involved in Muggle Studies extra curriculars, and so he surmised that she was engaged in some dinnertime activity down the hall.

Severus grudgingly returned to his classroom and awaited the arrival of James Potter. The brat showed up one minute early – perfectly punctual and polite.

“Do you think I want to be here, _Potter_?” he spat.

The boy did not bother repressing a smile, “I think I’d better not answer that, Sir.”

“Next time arrive precisely at the appointed time and spare me additional seconds in your presence. Now take your seat, write 100 lines and keep…your…mouth… _shut_.”

Severus gestured to the board where he had demonstrated ‘Destroying School Property Does Not Make me Impressive or Interesting’ as the scripture for copying.

Potter made a show of clamping his mouth shut and took a seat right at the front of the room. He was actually worse than his father. At least Harry had the good sense to be upset by Severus. This unflappable boy was unbearable to a point only his grandfather had achieved before him.

The lines were completed within an hour, and finally Severus was free. He made his way down to the first floor and tried to maintain nonchalance as he drifted past the Muggle Studies room. In the foyer a small group of students were gathered around two boys seated on the sprawling sectional, each holding a…thing. A kind of handset. In front of them on a flat screen some sort of car race was taking place.

The classroom door was open, and through it he saw a sullen Lily Potter conversing with a concerned looking Geraldine. She rubbed the girl’s back and guided her farther into the room past Severus’ line of sight. Gerry returned to the doorway and looked out to check on the students in the foyer. When she saw Severus she gave him a polite smile.

From within the classroom came an exclamation of profanity, and Gerry darted back inside. He heard her taking points.

A Ravenclaw observing the car race turned to give him a quizzical look. Severus sneered at them and made his trademark exit with a swoop of his robes.

He withdrew to his rooms and poured himself a stiff drink. Would she come tonight?

_‘Maybe she came enough this morning_ ,’ he mused.

The thought alone was enough to make him hard. Severus ran his fingers through his hair and tried to calm his body. He sipped his drink. He wondered how long one could have an erection before sustaining permanent tissue damage. He read. He wondered if she would come or if he should have it off without her. If he did it sooner he could have time to recover before she theoretically arrived, which brought him back to wondering if she’d come, and then to the memories of her coming that morning.

The thought spiral ran ‘round and ‘round until Severus had drank enough to reacquaint himself with his right hand. Self-gratification was not something he felt the desire to indulge in often, very little before the war, not at all during, and since he’d…resumed his life, there had been few nights he’d felt the need for it.

After a long day of classes and another night of detention ended with the reminder that Thursdays were when the film club met. Geraldine would be engaged until curfew, at which time his scheduled patrol would start. When he finally returned to bed not having seen her and not having found her waiting for him in his rooms (which was more than a bit disappointing) he found himself again spilling into his own hand before falling asleep.

Shocking, how something that had never been a part of his life had suddenly become his primary interest within a span of 72 hours.

It was dangerous. He was going to lose sight of himself completely. He had already lost focus on why he was at Hogwarts! He should be getting his feet under him, so to speak, figuring out what his next step was now he had a life left to take steps in. Instead, he’d foregone efforts of the mind completely, and retreated into pleasures of the flesh.

Severus wandered down to the dungeons, not quite desperate enough to go directly to her quarters. He knew he’d be welcome if he did, would perhaps even find her in a state of undress readying herself for the day, or pleasuring herself to the thought of him. He slipped into the potions classroom. It was Friday, and she’d have classes there all day.

He wanted to leave a message for her but hesitated. What if she read more into it than he meant to say? He enjoyed their method of secret communications, but floriography was prone to heavy handed romanticism. It was without nuance. There were no half measures, he had to be completely honest. A month ago, his freedom to speak the truth had felt liberating. At that moment, having to share his truth with his partner… the vulnerability was paralyzing.

Severus moved to the desk at the front of the room and breathed. He felt the weight of time here, so many years spent in this room. Years of anger, of loneliness and fear.

And it was behind him now.

He hadn’t been feeling quite so melodramatic when he’d come in. It struck him that this was no longer his place, and the fear didn’t need to be either.

He collected a clean jar and transfigured it into a low shallow vase. From its center he conjured first water, and then filled the vase’s mouth with a pink camellia in full bloom. He fled before he could be discovered leaving such a sentimental favor.

There was nearly an hour before curfew ended and breakfast service began. Hoping to cool his blood with fresh winter air, he made his way up to the ground floor and proceeded to the nearest courtyard. A gust of frigid January air washed over him as he passed through the exterior doors. The courtyard was entirely still, neither a sound nor a breeze passed though. At its snowy center starlight tumbled from the clear predawn sky, making ice clad stones twinkle eerily in the darkness.

Walking a circuit of the perimeter hallway, he was startled when Gerry emerged from the blind spot of a corner he was about to turn.

“Good morning, darling,” she chirped, looking far too smug. The mist of her breath wreathing her lovely face, reminding him how hot her mouth was. “ _Longing_ for me?”

Severus couldn’t be bothered to retaliate, or to ask how she’d managed to find his message and corner him in such short order. Instead, he grabbed her roughly and tugged her body up against his, descending on her mouth with fervor. A lascivious moan bubbled up in her chest. Her hands slid beneath his robes and around his waist, fingers worming their way under the hem of his wool coat to pluck at his vest.

He was less concerned with disrobing her than finding a soft part of her to rut against, and held her hips firmly in place for precisely that purpose.

“Been thinking about me?” she asked, maneuvering her thigh between his legs, and that was heavenly. He’d been hard since his lips touched hers, the confinement of his trousers near painful. Grinding his cock into her soft body was both delicious and terrible.

“I’d think that blatantly obvious,” he scoffed and dropped his head to her lovely neck to taste her skin.

She finally tugged enough of his vest free from his waistband for her fingertips to find skin. Her hands were cold from the winter air and he hissed when chilled fingers slid over his stomach. No one had ever touched him there, he didn’t think, and the startling intimacy was staggering.

Merlin he needed this. Too much. Dangerously so. The desire was insurmountable. He closed his teeth on the line of her jaw and felt her rocking against his own leg, apparently satisfied to rub herself off against him in the hallway. Well, that wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy him.

Severus dragged her over to one of the arched, glassless windows that looked into the courtyard’s center and sat himself on its ledge, pulling her into his lap, “wearing knickers today, witch?”

Gerry smirked, bringing up one knee to brace her foot against the ledge. She swirled her hips against him and smiled sharper when he groaned, “what do you think?”

“I think you’d better not be, or I’m going to tear them to pieces,” he growled and yanked at her robes and skirts, impatiently shuffling layers of chiffon out of the way. Getting them up about her waist revealed she had thoughtfully left herself accessible to him, and he rewarded her forethought with his fingers.

She laughed, “it’s fucking _freezing_ , Severus,” but licked her lips and rocked against his hand.

“Poor thing,” he murmured silkily against her throat, licking and biting where it pleased him to. “How you must be suffering.”

“Not as much as you must be,” Gerry batted his hands out of the way to reach his fly. “I know what you’ve got in here. You must be aching all wrapped up in those tight trousers.”

Severus cupped her face in both hands, drawing her eyes up from her task to meet his. He seemed to catch her off guard with whatever look was on his face. Before he could lose his nerve, he stroked her cheek and admitted, “you have no idea how I’ve been aching.”

Gerry’s lips parted soundlessly but she gave no other reaction of surprise as she eased his cock from his pants and positioned herself above him. She sank slowly down, winding tight coils of fire in his belly, warmth blossoming deep within his chest as her hands came to rest there.

“Sweetheart,” she sighed and settled her weight over him, forcing him to take short shallow gulps of the biting cold air.

She set a slow pace with a gutting, languid slide that had him tossing his head back against the stone. Gerry turned her head to mouth at the palm of his hand, and he felt a gasp shudder out of his throat when her lips closed around the tip of his finger. As her fiery mouth fellated the chilled digits of his right hand Severus stroked her cheek clumsily with the left. He wished he could see her face more clearly than the queer luminescence of the snow allowed. It truly was darkest before dawn, the moon having sank below the battlements and sunrise still hours away, darkness clung to her. He could not even see where her eyes were focused, if she were looking at him. He only felt the slick heat of her mouth, more satiny than the passage dragging up and down his cock. She sucked hard and his head swum.

“You made me wait,” he accused her weakly, trying to pick up the pace by thrusting up into her.

Gerry released his fingers and lifted one dainty hand from his chest to guide his touch down under her skirts. “Um _you_ made _me_ wait. _As usual_.”

Severus obliged her silent request to touch her clitoris, hopeful that if he could drive her as far out of her head as he himself felt that she would fuck him instead of teasing with the slow up and down of her hips. He breathed hard and forced the words to come, “how did you find me so quickly?”

He could feel her smug look, “time turner. O _bviously_.”

“Then I must insist, it was _you_ who made _me_ wait,” he hissed and flipped her skirt up, “ _lux_.”

“Severus! It’s goddam freezing!” she squealed.

The space below her skirts glowed with the golden light of his summoning, and finally he could see her properly. Or at least he could see the place his cock was disappearing in and out of, if not her face, blocked as it was from illumination by her voluminous skirts. As much as he wanted her to _fuck him_ so he could come, he felt warmth tingling up his arms and settling in his chest now he could finally see the mysterious, magnificent place that brought him so much torment and pleasure. The source of life. Never had he seen a thing so _beautiful_ he wanted to _pound_ until she was swollen and bruised.

“It’s too cold!”

“Enough whinging,” he scolded her, “fuck me, woman.”

He thought he heard her smother a laugh. She adopted a wilder, wanton pace. Starting to ride him with abandon she informed him between labored breaths, “you…you’re a right… _bastard_.”

“You love it,” he felt himself smiling and did nothing to hide it, even knowing his own face was brightly lit. Severus couldn’t precisely see her eyes in her silhouette, but he knew their basic position and fixed his own heated gaze there. He let the full range of primal emotions spinning through his head play over his face without shame or fear. He couldn’t see her lovely expressions, but she didn’t seem to have any shame of her own, half standing half straddling him with one foot braced by his hip, bouncing on his cock in the middle of the corridor.

“All the times I dreamed or riding you, it was never like this.”

“You thought of me?” he asked, and it took actual effort _not_ to mask the surprise and wonder that statement inspired.

“So much. Fucking touch me, rub my clit please, _please_ -”

“Tell me what you think about,” he demanded, dropping his fingers to her quim as requested.

His breath caught in his throat. Severus tore his gaze away, back up to where he thought her eyes were and made his best attempt at a seductive smirk. With his other hand he cupped her breast, squeezing and rolling it through her robes. He remembered the way they’d bounced under his labors the other morning and wished fervently for a well-lit bedroom where he could strip her clothes off as slowly as she’d slid her pussy up and down his cock moments before.

“I think about…about…” Gerry made a choked sound.

“Tell. Me.”

“I think about you fucking _nailing_ me,” she blurted out, “on the staircase. In the entrance hall. And the stones are digging into my back and it hurts and you’re fucking me so deep it hurts and I love it!”

“Shit,” he groaned, sucked cold air into his lungs and repeated himself for good measure, “oh shit.”

“I…I wanted you for _so long_ ,” Gerry admitted, her hand fell atop his and helped him press harder, swirl his fingers faster the way she needed it. She moaned and fucked him harder still and Severus was coming, just from the force of her desire. The sound of longing in her voice.

He slumped against the stone. The sickly feeling of shame at not being able to outlast her hardened abruptly into chilling fear when he caught movement in his peripheral vision. A shadow passed purposefully through the darkened corridor on the other side of the courtyard. Severus doused the light he’d conjured and waited. Substantial distance and a snowy sea separated them from the apparition, but his anxious heart hammered and his throat tightened. How many times had he crept in the shadows not daring to breathe? It was almost certainly another staff member, not one of his former _associates_ intent on murder and mayhem.

“I disillusioned us before you got my skirts up,” Geraldine whispered, dispelling the apprehension pounding through his veins. Carding her fingers through his hair, she dropped her knee and relaxed in his lap against his chest. He sighed out his relief, running his hands absently up and down her back.

They waited until their would-be discoverer had passed around the corner behind them and into the castle proper, and then Gerry’s mouth was on his. Her tongue slipped past his lips, drawing another sigh and the last of his tension from his throat.

“I really need to come, Severus,” she whispered against his mouth. “Please.”

“What can I do for you?” he wrapped his arms around her, held her tight against his body and kissed her soft lips when they found his again.

“Stay right there,” she whispered, and wiggled around until she was once again straddling his thigh.

Her arms came up around his neck and she rested her forehead against his shoulder as she ground her pussy against his leg. She moaned in his ear and Severus felt himself become lightheaded as more blood rushed out of his head to his groin regardless of his recent orgasm.

“Do you think about me?” she asked.

His eyes fell closed and his mouth went dry. She had admitted her fantasy to him. Turnabout was fair play.

“Yes,” he confessed, but could go no further.

She was starting to tremble in the way she did as she approached climax. Severus arched his back to lift his hips against her, give her something firmer to rub against.

“What do you want to do to me?” her lustful voice was tight and soft. He tightened his hold around her waist.

“I want to strip every stitch of clothing from your body and taste every inch of your skin,” he relished her shiver of pleasure, “I want to spread you out on my sheets with every window open, bathing you in sunlight, revealing you entirely to me. I want to bury myself inside you and find out how deep I have to go to make you scream.”

Gerry was nearly hyperventilating. She moved back and forth against his leg with more ferocity than she’d ridden his cock. “With the windows open?”

“Yes.”

“Won’t someone hear me scream?” she sobbed and dug her fingers into his shoulders.

“Yes,” he hissed in her ear and she did just that, giving a wail against his neck as she shuddered in his arms.

The wool of his trousers had become wet where she rested. Realizing that made his guts tighten pleasurably, followed by an uncommonly tender feeling creeping into his chest as her breathing slowed. He indulged himself in running a hand up and down her back as she caught her breath, more to sooth himself than her.

Gerry got her feet under her, wobbling so hard for a moment he had to steady her. She arranged her skirts and robes about her while he straightened his own clothes. There was indeed a wet spot on his trousers from the combination of hers release and his leaking out of her as she’d brought herself off. Another wave of pleasure tightened his stomach.

“Let me take care of that for you,” Gerry murmured and brushed her palm over the fabric. He felt the warm tingle of magic and assumed she’d cast a wordless cleaning charm. Curiously, the loss of evidence from their encounter made him disappointed.

“Thanks again,” she purred and made to take her leave.

Severus restrained her with a firm grip on her arm, “so quick to leave me now you’ve had your fun?”

“Don’t you want breakfast? We shouldn’t show up together...”

“I want to know how long I’ll be made to wait this time.”

“But I so enjoy knowing you’re longing for me. Especially if I get lovely flowers to tell me so.”

“You are pushing your luck, Miss Wright, and evading the question poorly.”

“Fine. Tonight?”

“When?”  
  


“After your detention is over?”

“Eight then…do you want to come see how your violet is doing?” he leaned against the wall to his left. Around them the torches were springing to life. Dawn had not broken but curfew had.

“Better make it my place. It wouldn’t do to be found missing from my rooms if one of our snakes has a midnight emergency.”

Severus arched a brow, “and if they find _me_ there?”

“I’ll hide you behind a tapestry,” Wright smiled, and he could actually see it in the sudden light. “Now don’t you get between me and my breakfast, Professor Snape. _I’m_ going first. You hang back.”

“As you wish,” he gave a mockingly chivalrous bow.

Wright snorted, “okay _Wesley_.”

He would have asked her what the hell she was on about but was distracted when he spotted his trousers, now visible in the torch light. Or rather, when he spotted what was _on them_.

He’d thought she’d cleaned them – he’d felt the magic – but the stain from their lovemaking was still present. She was already gone when he raised his head to berate her. He cast the charm to vanish it but could not.

“Insolent, reckless….” He grumbled under his breath and made a hasty pursuit the way she’d gone. He’d catch her and force her to reverse whatever spell for permanence she’d cast. If he tried to remove it himself there were bound to be adverse effects upon the wool, perhaps resulting in holes or discoloration.

He only had so many good wool trousers.

Severus was unable to catch up with her before she reached the Great Hall. She was already sitting at the head table. Minerva and Hieronymus Jacobus were the only other staff present. The hall was mostly quiet with only a sparse smattering of students.

Wright appeared to be nearly done with her morning meal. Despite how recently she’d left him, the number of empty dishes in front of her was prodigious.

_Time turner_ her lilting tone played in his mind. Was the woman at the head table from before or after their tryst?

Severus took the empty seat to her left, farthest from the headmistress and ancient runes professor. Her eyes lit up when she saw him, and he saw that she had slowed her progress drinking coffee considerably once he joined her, drawing out the time before she would reasonably be expected to depart.

“Good morning, Severus.”

“A _very_ good morning to you, Miss Wright,” he smirked but managed to prevent himself from leering lasciviously. He nodded to her cleared plate and porridge bowl, “you must have been up early.”

“More or less,” was her cryptic reply. She looked at him suspiciously, perhaps wondering if this sinisterly cheerful man was her somber lover or an imposter.

“Did you stop by your classroom before breakfast?”

Suspicion morphed into calculation on her face, evidenced in the way she pursed her lips. They did not look at all kiss swollen.

“No…?”

“Really? Not say, thirty minutes ago?”

“Should I have?” Wright asked pointedly, lowering her voice to a whisper.

“Who am I to say?” he shrugged and poured coffee into his own cup from the carafe.

“Huh,” Wright looked into her own mug quizzically, drained it and stood. “Well since I wasn’t there then I better go be there now. It would be a shame if I failed to live up to anyone’s expectations.”

“They are very high.”

“Hot damn,” Wright breathed and turned to go.

“Wait,” Severus said, remembering her inexplicable appearance in the corridor. Wright half turned to look at him over her shoulder while he dredged up the right words where they could potentially be overheard. “Did you know the torches in the North courtyard light a moment _before_ the clock rings six?”

“Just uh…just a _moment_ before or…?” she turned more fully and bent forward so he could hear her soft speech, the side benefit of which being he could see down her robes.

“The _torches_ light just a moment before…if one were to be there fifteen or twenty minutes prior to that the corridor on the southeast side would be pitch black.”

“Of course it would be. Have a lovely day, Professor.”

Wright made her exit from the hall and Severus completed his meal. He forgot entirely about the spot on his pants until he began the ascent to his classroom, intending to get a start on preparations for his first class.

Young Lily Potter rounded the corner at the top of the stairs in a dead run and knocked right into him. She hit the floor on her belly and skidded some distance. Severus merely stumbled, but in her fall the girl had pulled his outer robes open to expose what he wore beneath.

Lily’s terrified eyes took a long time to scan up the length of his body and tearfully meet his eyes. She didn’t pause at the stain and Severus realized she must not be able to see it.

“P-professor! I’m _so_ sorry! I mean I’m sorry, _Sir_!” she babbled, rising hastily to her feet.

“Ten points from Gryffindor for carelessness, Miss Potter. Running in the hall is behavior more suited to a five-year-old. Please endeavor to comport yourself as a young lady and not a toddler.”

“Y-yes, Sir! I’m sorry, Sir!”

“ _Go_ ,” he hissed and watched her scramble away, desperate to escape but frightened of disobeying his orders by retreating with too much speed.

Severus rolled his eyes and continued his journey. He’d nearly finished setting up everything in his classroom before taking a seat at his desk and catching sight of what had been left for him. This was where she’d run off to without him after their lovemaking.

A small bundle of green sprigs had been left beside his inkwell. Dill and geranium bound with red twine. He lifted the bundle to his nose and breathed in the white flowers’ herbaceous scent of nutmeg, savoring its lovely mingling with the anise of the dill. She’d tied Lust to an Expected Meeting.

The urge to roll his eyes was not as substantial as it probably should have been. He too had struggled not to come off heavy handed, and he supposed she deserved extra credit for using multiple specimens.

He pulled his robes back to again inspect his trousers. The place their pleasure had run out of her quim and marked him was shiny with slickness. It looked still wet. When the wool moved across his skin the stain moved with it. Below his fingertips the texture was dry. A simple illusion but extraordinarily well cast.

It never disappeared when he peeked surreptitiously at it through the day, feeding the well of his longing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Camellia, pink: longing for you


	8. Chapter 8

Geraldine stood before her bathroom mirror, eyes narrowed critically at her satin robes. She cycled the color from black to white to red to black to white to red again. She doubted very much that Severus would care what color they were. Or even notice what color they were.

Black was best, she decided and once again evaluated her reflection with her body draped in satin the inky color of a clear winter night.

_Or a clear winter morning_ , she thought, her thoughts returning to their corridor interlude at dawn for the umpteenth time that day.

He’d said he wanted to find out how deep he had to fuck her to make her scream.

“Christ,” she swore aloud. The jolt of pleasure the memory of his voice provided had her rubbing circles over her quim through the satin, trying to take some of the edge off. She thought she might come just from him looking at her hard enough.

He’d also said he wanted to _see_ her.

Gerry found her self-control and brought both her treacherous hands up to her hair. Fiddling just to occupy them. After another careful examination she returned her satin robes to white, the lightness of the color allowing the color of her skin to show through the thin material. Her nipples, the outline of her breasts, were plainly displayed.

“He wants to see, we’ll let him have it,” she informed her reflection with finality, then abandoned the bathroom for the sitting area. She took her place on the settee and picked up the book left there. She’d been rereading the same paragraph for the last two days, distracted as she was by every errant noise which might herald the arrival of her acerbic lover.

She wondered constantly how she had managed to ensnare him. The fearful depths of her heart demanded certainty on this point, or else she might unwittingly lose his interest. The more cynical parts rationalized that she was likely the first woman to pay him _any_ attention, and he simply wasn’t aware he could do better.

There were much smarter, more interesting women than herself in Britain alone. Dark and complicated women. Fortunately, no such competitors for his attention were present at Hogwarts, and she would absolutely abuse her position as the only real option he had while she could. When he eventually grew bored of her, she would at least have his virginity. Probably. He had seemed virginal enough. At any rate, she was certain tonight would be one that stood out in his memory for years to come.

She sighed and started rereading the same goddamn paragraph of her book.

Severus rescued her from her literary plight with a timely arrival at eight sharp. Gerry carefully hid her body behind the door until she could close it behind him, just in case anyone were to pass by.

“Good evening,” Severus purred and did nothing to hide the lusty hunger on his face. For all he looked ready to pounce, he passed her and moved out of the entryway without mauling her even a little.

He surprised her by producing a bottle of wine seemingly from thin air–a move she had been planning to use on him! He sat himself far to one side of the settee, leaving just enough space for her to sit beside him on the narrow piece of furniture.

Gerry took her expected position and conjured a pair of wide glasses for the rich red he was uncorking. Severus arched a brow at her and conjured a decanter of a style to match and proceeded to aerate the wine inside it. The look on his face when he turned to face her indicated that he intended to let it breathe, which was both titillating and excruciating. How long was he going to give it? More importantly, would he make love to her before or after they drank?

_‘Oh, you_ know _he likes to wait_ ,’ she admonished herself.

He confirmed her suspicions when he turned to her and struck up a conversation.

“How were your classes?”

Gerry gave him an incredulous look, though she was unsurprised. Delicious anticipation washed over her as his eyes roamed over the translucent satin, her eagerness on full display as the dark color of her erect nipples showed plainly through, while she was asked about _her day_. Then Severus gave her a surprisingly gentle half smile and reached up to toy with her hair.

She marveled at how contrary this man was. She couldn’t tell if he was teasing her or himself by making her wait. Did it get him off or was he trying to avoid looking desperate? Likely both, she reasoned, and could not suppress a smile.

“It went well. I had doubles for both my NEWT classes today…so a solid four hours of what resembled adult company.” Gerry laid a hand on his thigh, running her fingers up to the love stain she’d emblazoned on his trousers for only him to see, “and _yours_?”

“Blessedly boring,” Severus said, smile sharpening, “nothing remotely exciting to hold my interest.”

“Mmm how lucky for you,” Gerry said, allowing her fingers to brush over the cotch of his pants on their way up to his chest. She settled her hand over one pectoral and let her head come to rest on his shoulder. “I’m glad there wasn’t anything preoccupying your mind while you worked.”

She couldn’t see what expression was on his face, but his arm came up to settle around her shoulders. He spotted her book and next pursued that for his next line of questioning, alternately playing with her hair and the neckline of her robes while they spoke.

She allowed her lips and breath to ghost over his neck while she replied, rubbing circles over his chest.

His fingers slid down into the back of her robes. She opened the buttons at his throat and down his chest to slide her hand into his jacket. He pressed his nose to the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. She sucked the lobe of his ear between her teeth.

Severus cleared his throat and leaned forward so she had to straighten in her seat. “Allow me to pour you a glass,” he said and she got the feeling it was mostly to fill the silence.

He handed one to her and filled his own. They toasted wordlessly and each took a sip without taking their eyes off the other, then immediately set their glass aside and leaned in to pull each other close. Their mouths met in a slow, intense kiss.

Severus pulled her legs across his lap, one arm cradling her shoulders while the other fell to her knee. His touch was sure, his arms surprisingly strong. It occurred to her she’d seen this man’s cock three times but had never seen his bare arms. Were they muscular? She hadn’t expected that.

His tongue’s leisurely strokes over hers pulled her attention back to the present, and she enjoyed the firm squeeze of his fingers on her knee. They ghosted silkily up under the hem of her robes to stroke her thigh. Gerry wound her fingers in his hair, tried to spread her knees and bare the place she most wanted his touch, moaned up into his mouth the way she’d learned drove him mad. Severus groaned and withdrew, standing abruptly to leave her half-laying on the couch with her legs spread and wetness seeping from her slit down between the cheeks of her arse, soaking into the satin under it. She saw him gaze down at her, unabashedly staring up her skirt at the wet place she wanted him to slip his cock inside, and felt the muscles in her twat spasm with want.

A gallant hand was offered to assist her to rise. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her with only half as much control as he’d had the moment before.

“Can’t wait,” he grunted and sounded a little embarrassed about it.

She licked his lips and assured him, “I don’t want you to.”

His hands came up to her shoulders and he marched her backwards to the closed door leading to his former bedroom. Gerry let herself be pushed up against the solid pine and was reminded intensely of their first tryst in the scant moonlight of the third-floor corridor. Snape’s confidence had grown tenfold, and she felt a jolt of pride for him. That he was relaxed enough around her to achieve that. That she’d done whatever she’d done to make him feel like he could be…and now she would reap the benefits.

Gerry reached behind her for the handle and pushed the door open. Inside she’d lit the room as brightly as she thought they could stand. Candles were scattered about for a bit of romance, enchanted to neither fall over nor burn out. Small balls of sunlight had been conjured around the head of the bed for good measure.

The sitting room was quite dim by comparison, and Severus squinted past her as his eyes adjusted.

“It appears to be midday in your _boudoir_ ,” he remarked dryly.

“You said you wanted to see my body,” Gerry reminded him.

“Merlin,” he murmured before his lips descended once more over hers.

She let him have his way for a moment, but quickly lost her patience. Gerry dropped a hand to cup the tent in his trousers and gave it a firm squeeze.

Severus made a needy little noise in the back of his throat and broke their kiss. Eyes aflame, he used his strong grip on her shoulders to guide her backwards into the bedroom. He closed the door firmly behind himself and pushed her towards the bed.

They stared at each other a moment, catching their breath. She watched Severus’ stare travel leisurely over her body, first down and then back up. The heat filling his eyes when they again met hers ignited an answering fire in her belly. Severus licked his lips and opened his mouth to speak, eyes darting down again to her breasts and the crux of her thighs. The lights behind her must be casting a silhouette through the satin, illuminating her curves. The way he was looking at her made her feel impossibly sexy. Her quim pulsed again, squeezing down in anticipation. Moisture gathered sticky and thick at the tops of her thighs.

The bobbing of his adam’s apple above his opened collar caught her attention. He licked his lips again. When he spoke it was softly, dark voice low and thick with desire.

“Will you disrobe for me?”

A tiny flickering of the muscles in his face looked like a repressed wince. Still a bit self-conscious then. Gerry knew from experience the best cure for Severus’ awkwardness was to drive him out of his mind.

She gave him a smile and let her hands fall between her legs as she had in the bathroom, touching herself through the satin. Fucking Christ she was so wet that the satin made a noise against her dripping pussy as she rubbed it.

Severus’ face had gone very red. His lips parted the barest amount as he watched her with a raptness she suspected he’d previously reserved for matters of life and death. He looked to be unsteady on his feet as lust rapidly overcame embarrassment and logic.

“I will strip for you,” she told him, “but first I want to watch _you_ do something.”

“Yes?” he asked, transported.

“I want you to see if you can taste me through my nightie,” she said with such a lusty tone she hardly recognized her own voice. Severus’ eyes fluttered closed and his nostrils flared. If he’d been nude she thought she’d have seen his cock twitch.

Obsidian eyes sprang open and he descended upon her, grabbing her roughly and kissing her firmly on the mouth. His pupils had dilated so wide she thought she might fall into the depthless gaze. His attention stayed locked on her face as he slowly sank to his knees–and fuck if Professor Snape on his knees for her wasn’t enough to make her want to _die_ –and tentatively ran the tip of his tongue over the wet patch of satin she’d pressed and rubbed into her pussy. He kept his eyes on her and licked with more intention, shuddering when she stroked his hair.

“You taste how wet I am for you?”

“Yes,” he looked so supplicant where he was. His lips glistened with spit. He ceased his work just long enough to enunciate the single syllable word, then returned to sucking and licking her through the soft slick barrier.

“You taste how much I want you?”

He groaned, “yes” and with strong hands on the backs of her thighs pulled her closer so he could burry his face further in the fabric. His tongue probed the shape of her vulva through the satin, tracing her folds and thrusting inside best he could. He sucked hard over her clit and dragged his teeth over the shape of her until she couldn’t catch her breath.

When he tried to lift her skirt and taste more directly, Gerry took a step back, relishing the look of disappointment that flashed across his face. Knowing he secretly craved the denial.

“Pretty sure you wanted to see me take my own clothes off,” she reprimanded a little too breathlessly to be properly scolding. He sat back on his haunches to watch her, unmindful of the fact that he was still panting through spit slick lips. His eyes left hers briefly to lock onto the wet spot he’d made on the front of her nightgown.

His erection had distended his trousers profoundly, and she saw him shifting uncomfortably. She was relieved to see he no longer looked nervous, though there was still uncertainty about him and he was far quieter than she’d ever seen him. It was sort of surprising. After how forceful he’d been the last two times she thought he was going to be a lot more demanding.

No sooner had she said, “you can touch yourself while you watch, if you want,” than his hand darted down the front of his pants to start stroking himself.

She tried to focus on slipping her garment off sensually but the way he was looking at her was pushing all her buttons in the best, most distracting way. She loved to be watched, wanted to feel the weight of desire in the eyes of her partner and Severus was attentive in the exact way more experienced men weren’t. It was plain on his face how special this was to him, and it lit her up inside.

His desire made the look of him intoxicating in a way it shouldn’t otherwise be. Calling Severus was unconventionally handsome was perhaps too generous. What he had was _allure_. She hadn’t been lying when they’d kissed on New Year’s Eve. He had a magnetic darkness, and if he’d had underwear model good looks she doubted very much he’d have any darkness whatsoever. Whatever the condition of his hair or skin, the fathomless black eyes with their wild intensity focused so intently on her body were overwhelming her ability to focus on seduction.

_‘God, let him be inexperienced enough not to notice this stripping is rubbish.’_ She let the robe drift open before shrugging it off and stood for a moment to let his gaze wash over her. This is what she lived for. What she fantasized about when she touched herself. An audience.

His face hardened in a way she’d seen in other men when their arousal superseded their anxiety enough to activate the primal part of their brain that only knew how to bite and rut, and not at all how to feel shame.

_Perfect_.

Severus was apparently done waiting for instructions. He rose just enough to push her insistently onto the bed, then grabbed her thighs and dragged her roughly across the duvet so her hips hung off the edge, threw her legs apart and dove back into his prior occupation there. His tongue slid without hesitation into the places it had explored before, only without the barrier, his pleasure at this fact clear in the way he moaned into her center. His hands took up residence on her thighs, pressing them further apart, the strength in each spindly digit imprinting a line of heat on her skin.

His hair fell into his face, obscuring the lovely look of focus on his face. She wanted desperately to have every ounce of his intent, and impatiently swept his hair away to uncover his beautiful eyes. Dark lashes against the too pale color of his skin fluttered open as she raked her fingertips over his scalp.

“Don’t you dare hide from me,” she scolded him, and Severus’ intense look was shattered by an irrepressible smile. He looked awkward, clearly out of practice at that particular facial expression. Not a sneer or a smirk but a smile. She wondered suddenly if he practiced scowling in the mirror.

Severus flicked her clit with the tip of his tongue, drawing a startled noise from her throat. He must have taken this for encouragement, as he doubled down his efforts and attention there. Sweet jolts of pleasure shot up her spine making her whine as the stimulation sharpened to near unbearable. When her limbs started to twitch he backed off, returning to exploring each fold and curve of her labia, dipping his tongue inside to taste the place he fucked her. She pulled his hair and rolled her hips up into his mouth, wishing ardently for his fingers, but unwilling to disrupt this rite of passage for him. They’d yet to have any sort of oral sex, and she seriously doubted he’d had it with another before her.

A gentle bite to the fleshy place just below her entrance made her gasp and jerk her head up.

“Not boring you am I?” he asked, sliding his tongue up and down her slit and squeezing her thighs. Those eyes were alight with a mischief that made her terribly excited.

“Fuck no,” she panted.

“Your mind was wandering,” he admonished softly and sucked her clit between his lips. She moaned and he ramped up the pressure in response, eyes locked on hers and good God he was impossibly sexy. He sucked harder, brows furrowing with focus as he added his tongue, flicking rapidly until she started to tremble. She threw her head back and gave a cry.

He growled at her and stopped as soon as she broke eye contact. “ _Look at me_ , Geraldine.”

Her head shot up instantly, found those fathomless black depths once more trained on her face. It was impossible to see where his pupils ended and irises began, even in the abundant light. She felt as though she’d fall into that gaze. He swept his own hair back from his face this time.

Once he was sure he had her full attention, he lowered his mouth back between her legs. The gravity of those eyes and the slowness of his movements made the bottom drop out of her stomach. A tremendous wave a pleasure crashed into her just before he laved the flat of his tongue over her slit from bottom to top. Her hands fisted in the coverlet and she shouted his name. Not an orgasm but so close. Or maybe it was but she wasn’t near satisfied and she _wouldn’t_ look away. She _couldn’t_ tear her eyes away. She wanted him to stay right there, so good with his harsh mouth being so sweet, but she wanted to be filled and the competing needs were going to drive her crazy.

Severus must have sensed her need for he drew the fingertips of one hand tantalizingly soft over her thigh and between her legs, slipping two inside where she was dripping with the need to be filled.

“More, more please,” Gerry heard herself start to babble and wished ardently for something to do with her mouth so she could shut the hell up and let him control her pleasure, unable to stop the pleas escaping her. Severus mercifully reached up to fill her mouth next with two more fingers from his other hand. What an unusually sensitive lover he was proving to be! She sucked them greedily, having just enough brain power to fear he’d lose his respect for her after seeing just how wanton he could make her before he slid more fingers insider her quim and he was stretching her so nicely she lost all further reservations.

His eyes never left hers, watching her reactions with as much greed as she felt in her core to be filled more and deeper. Something like amazement colored his eyes and she realized she was up to four fingers down there, and doing her best to throat the ones up nearest her melting brain. She was moaning around the digits while he dutifully stroked, watching him pant and press soft kisses over her belly and back down to her clit. He began to suck again with the same intensity as before, probably trying to make her come, sweet thing he was. She thought she might even be able to this way, but next time she’d have to teach him to lick her where he fucked her with his fingers, and put his impressive nose to better use on her clit…

To her utter amazement, a lightbulb seemed to ignite in his pretty black eyes and–genius he reputedly was–he seemed to have the epiphany to perform this advanced technique all on his own and abruptly shifted down to fuck her quim with fingers and tongue and seemed surprised to find his nose in line with her clit.

Well, he’d gotten most of the way there himself. She could help him out the rest of the way.

Gerry pushed his hair back out of his face and cupped it tenderly as she proceeded to ride it, obediently keeping her eyes on his. Severus groaned louder than she’d heard him do before during sex, absolutely loving this, clearly. She herself had no complaints. The only thing that could have made it better were if he had a third hand with which to fill her remaining empty hole.

Severus made a wounded noise, a long whine into her pussy that sent her tumbling into climax. The fervor with which he pleasured her was totally overwhelming, the feeling of nearly his entire hand in her pussy, cumming into his mouth and on his fingers– she screamed for him, jerking up against his face before collapsing back into the covers.

He grabbed her painfully tight about the waist, buried his face against her thigh and shuddered all over while she was coming down.

Gerry carded her fingers through his hair, more softly now the urgency had passed, and waited for her breathing to return to normal. He peeked up at her for a moment, saw her expression of joy, and she saw him quickly hide a smile of his own against her leg.

“Have you done that before?” she asked abruptly.

Severus raised his head to look at her again, scrutinizing her face for…what? Criticism? She had none. She had such an absence of criticism she was second guessing her previous assumption of his virginity.

“No,” he finally said, and the word hung between them with many unsaid implications and just a hint of anxiety.

“Well, that must be a lie, because no one does it that well the first time. Have you been practicing on something?”

“Practicing?” a surprised laugh forced itself out of his chest, and she felt a familiar pang of pity for this wonderful, terrible man who never had enough joy to learn to properly smile or laugh. “What in the world would I practice on?”

“I don’t know – a pillow? Some sort of messy fruit? A peach.”

He was laughing for real now, covering his face with his hands, but honestly and uncontrollably laughing. It filled her with delight more effervescent than the orgasm. The only thing that would please her more would be returning the favor.

“You were so good, Severus,” she purred just to watch his reluctantly mirthful expression melt into desire when he raised his head. “I wanna make you come.”

“Erm,” he began, and his mouth snapped closed. His eyes dropped to the floor.

_Oh._

“Really?” Gerry said with perhaps more incredulity than was polite, given his rapidly tightening posture and hardening face.

“You….” He shook his head and sighed, “you looked so…beautiful,” he said softly, refusing to look at her.

Just when she thought she was figuring out who the hell that man was... She knew for a fact that any emotion he revealed went far deeper than whatever she was permitted to see. The humiliated slump of his shoulders was gutting, but the edge of pain in his voice was unacceptable.

“Severus,” she laid a gentle hand on his shoulder until he glanced up at her. “That is unbelievably sexy.”

The look he shot her surpassed skepticism and landed somewhere in the vicinity of angry astonishment.

“I’m not toying with you, I mean it. You…you came untouched just from the way I looked while you…pleasured me? That’s…you’re so… _kiss me_.”

Eyes wide, he climbed up her body to comply. Gerry held his face gently in her hands and let him lead. Enthusiasm was too cheerful a word for it, his kiss was ardent. Everything about this man was so layered in intensity and darkness, even a kiss carried the same focus he’d give war games. His pride may well have been worth his life, she mused, trying to give back as good as he gave her.

A smear of wet cloth on her thigh made her gasp into his mouth. His eyes bore down into hers as she pushed lightly at his chest to make him rise. Once he was up enough to push onto his back she slid down so her mouth was level with the open fly of his trousers ( _why the hell is he still wearing so much clothing?!)_ then flicked her eyes up to make sure he was watching before she descended upon him.

She held his eyes while she sucked his spend from the opening of his trousers, watched him start to pant and shiver as Gerry teased him. When she’d licked up the spots of cum on his pants she pulled the fabric open wider to expose his half hard cock and lap up the sticky mess he’d covered himself in. Severus moaned and writhed, too sensitive from his orgasm to bear her attention but too wrapped up in the agonizing pleasure to make her stop. He squeezed his hands into fists, then flattened them against the coverlet, then squeezed tight again. His hips alternately drew away from the overstimulation, then thrust up into her mouth. For a man of nearly forty (or sixty, she supposed) he was getting hard again with flattering speed.

“Ready for more already?” Gerry whispered against his balls, then swiped her tongue from the base of his cock to the tip.

Severus groaned, and threaded his fingers into her hair to lift her head away. “You’re going to give me a coronary.”

“Why? Because I want to lick up all your cum?”

He breathed hard through his nostrils, stroked her hair with shaking hands as she resumed sucking and licking. He panted and strained under her, riding the knife’s edge of pleasure until Severus’ grip tightened in her hair and his gruff voice begged her, “stop. Please stop. I don’t want it to be over…”

Gerry sat up and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand while he caught his breath, minute tremors shaking through his body. She leaned forward to caress his cheek and felt her chest tighten painfully when he turned his head into the touch like the love-starved puppy he was. _Christ_.

“Wait here. Don’t move,” she said softly, kissing his forehead.

“If you insist…” he murmured as she rose and slipped out of the radiant bedroom into the shadows outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, if you could read minds, you'd cheat at sex too. Let's not lie.


	9. Chapter 9

Her chambers were as black as night compared to the midday illumination of her bedroom, and it took Gerry’s eyes a moment to adjust. Once she could make out the rough shapes of her sitting room, she picked her way cautiously around the furniture to find the wine they’d abandoned.

Upon returning to the brighter room, Severus had propped himself up on his elbows, apparently to watch her walking around naked. Who could blame him? He’d never had the opportunity and Gerry was inclined to think he found her as sexy as she wanted to be found. Not to mention the warm fuzzy feelings voyeurism gave her.

“Thirsty?” she flipped her hair over her shoulder and bent forward at a revealing angle to set the bottle on the bedside table, then lifted a glass to her lips with her arm angled carefully out so his eyes could roam over the shape of her body.

The wine was _superb_. She actually had to stop flaunting her body and do a double take at the glass. It was smooth and rich on her tongue, smokey at the front with deep dark fruity notes at the end.

“This is exquisite,” she remarked. “The sex has also been incredible, but I’m upset we almost let this go to waste…”

Severus huffed out a laugh and sat up, shifting to the edge of the bed so he could pull her into his lap. She fed him a belt of wine from her own glass and chased it with a kiss once he swallowed. He’d begged her to stop sucking his oversensitive cock, and she had obliged. Hopefully she’d given him a long enough break, because he looked too delicious all debauched and spread out on her bed for her to resist much longer.

“You’re a little overdressed,” she murmured against his lips.

Severus said nothing but picked her up to set her on the bed before rising to stand in front of her. Gerry leaned back on one hand to sip her wine, feeling unsure whether her observation would give him confidence or anxiety. He didn’t seem to like being seen as much as she did.

He’d shrugged off his outer robes when he came in but had left his customary wool jacket on over his vest. Severus’ hands hovered hesitantly over the buttons of this article then moved mechanically down the line of buttons. He kept his head down so his hair fell in shiny curtains which obscured his face…even while the leaking head of his erection jutted out of his open trousers. She wasn’t sure how he’d react to her pointing this out or asking again to see his face, so decided to hold her tongue.

He let the jacket slip off his shoulders and turned to stiffly fold it and lay it upon the velvet armchair occupying the corner of her room. When he turned he chanced a look at her, and Gerry gave him what she hoped was an encouraging look. He took a deep breath and shook his head, scoffing so quietly she almost missed it.

Then he surprised her by lifting his head with a defiant look a bit more severe than _the bedroom_ usually called for and slid the tip of one finger down the front of his silk shirt. The buttons running down the center sprang eagerly open as he touched each one with a fluid downward motion not at all hesitant as he’d been before. Beneath that layer was yet _another_ , the aggravating man, which was fortunately the last and entirely lacking in buttons. It was a simple vest he pulled up over his head without further preamble.

While Severus took two steps back to place those items neatly atop his jacket, Gerry took her first opportunity to drink in her lover’s complexion.

The puckered starburst of scarring at his neck she’d cataloged before with her tongue, but never her eyes. In the light the lines were the shocking pink of young scar tissue against his otherwise pale skin, and she was reminded that he’d only woken up from that wound eight months ago. His ribs were visible under his skin, but she was relieved to see he was not emaciated, a possibility she had prepared herself for. A sparse smattering of dark hair grew thinly down his chest and belly, interrupted by a number of small scars much older and lighter than the one at his jugular.

He stopped in front of her at the edge of the bed, and Gerry lifted her arms to take the shape of him in with her hands as well as her eyes. The sharp edge of a clavicle, his bony ribcage. She leaned in to kiss above his navel, ran her hands up his sides and down the line of his arms. His forearms and wrists were hard with corded muscle the same as her own. It came with a lifetime of chopping, stirring, and grinding fine powders and pastes.

She took each of his hands in her own and turned his left arm over. His body stiffened while she looked over the brand he hid there, but when she glanced up his face was open and indulgent. With great patience he bore her inspection, breath catching when she kissed across his chest to lap at one dusky nipple. She pressed her face into the soft hair of his chest, breathed in the spicey herbal smell of his soap and sweat, stroking the backs of his hands while she explored his upper body, listening to his breathing change as her lips slid over the sensitive flesh inside his elbow, licked down over the black etchings of his tattoo. She felt first the raised skin, then the dark magic of it. Those lines were _hot_ against her tongue. She felt the snake wriggling under her mouth and Severus jerked away.

“Don’t-” he said firmly, if breathlessly. “You shouldn’t touch that…”

“I’m sorry. I should have asked,” Gerry politely released him, let him take a step back and breathe. “Do you want to keep going?”

Severus ran a hand through his hair, then nodded. “Just don’t…”

“I won’t do it again. I promise.”

He nodded again, then looked down the line of his body with a frown. His erection had not wilted at all, and Gerry wondered if there hadn’t been something pleasurable in that, even as it gave him emotional pause. Dark magics were often that way, from what she understood. And it was a curse…of some type anyway, that marred his skin. A strikingly beautiful one, despite the terror it represented. She thought that was also typical of such dark things.

Severus tucked his thumbs into his trousers and pants and shoved them hastily down around his knees. He straightened as his cock bounced free. And finally, after having it inside her so many times, Gerry _finally_ got to see the object of her pleasure in all its glory. His limbs had a long and spindly quality to them she’d first observed in his fingers, and what his cock lacked in girth it made up for in length. She’d known this from the first night he was inside her. She enjoyed being stretched (although he had proven he could perform that service with his hands if necessary) but the place he could hit her so deep inside had been fueling her fantasies for weeks. Seeing the lovely uncut cock at last had echoes of his promise from their rendezvous that morning reverberating through her skull.

Wrapping a hand around his beautiful cock banished the last of Severus’ discomfort. He breathed sharply through his nostrils, thrusting forward into her touch. The length of it left plenty exposed for her free hand to toy with as she stroked with the other, first the bollocks and base hidden away by a surprisingly soft thatch of hair, then the foreskin at the tip. His hands gripped restlessly at her shoulders, her neck, stroked through her hair while she squeezed and rubbed and praised him.

“So long, Severus, you fuck me so deep with this gorgeous cock. Are you still going to see-”

“How deep I have to go to make you scream? Oh yes…” His hands tightened in her hair, forcing her to look at him. “I haven’t forgotten, and I’m glad you haven’t either. Are you ready?”

“Gods yes,” Gerry dropped his prick and scooted far enough back on the bed to lay back and spread her legs for him.

Severus kicked off his trousers and shoes with far less grace than he’d removed his shirts and came to kneel between her parted knees. She pressed her thighs close around his hips and ran her heels down the back of his legs as he came down to his elbows over her. His soft skin slid luxuriously over hers from her ankles up to her chest as he pressed his hips forward. Hard flesh slid back and forth over her center as he rocked languidly against her, seeking her opening with his cock. He had more success finding her lips with his own, kissing her soft and unhurried while he wrapped her up in his arms. Gerry held him just as tightly and gave a little murmur of pleasure when the head of his cock caught at her entrance. He shifted his weight above her to facilitate one long slide inside, grunting into her mouth when he’d sheathed himself fully.

This was far more tender than she’d been expecting. Severus may have even surprised himself, giving her a smirk far too sexy for someone as timid as he’d been while disrobing. She locked her ankles behind his knees to prevent him from thrusting too energetically, she wanted this to last. Severus seemed to know what she was doing and indulged her with slow strokes in and out of her dripping pussy, using his limited range of motion to elongate them as much as possible while unable to pull out. He retaliated with sharp thrusts forward. It wasn’t that deep deep place that made her see stars, but it was close and each movement drove an involuntary whine out of her. He swallowed down each of the little noises with a kiss until Gerry lifted her knees to wrap her legs around his waist. With the greater mobility that offered Severus withdrew further on each outstroke and pounded harder back inside, keeping the same slow pace just to make her crazy. His lips brushed over her chin, her cheeks, her eyes with a tenderness in stark counterpoint to the increasingly rough fuck he was giving her.

He shifted again and the new angle dragged his pelvis over her aching clit. She groaned his name, dug her fingertips into his shoulders to spur him on. His teeth found her neck, drawing ever more embarrassing sounds out of her as he grasped her shoulders to hold her in place, upping the force to something resembling brutality until she couldn’t just moan and grunt.

“Fuck _yes_ , Severus. You’re so good, it’s _so good_ ,” she twined her fingers in his hair again, held his face to her breasts as he set upon devouring them with tongue and teeth. “Fuck me! Fuck me deeper, please. I want it so bad. I know you can fuck me so good with that pretty cock.”

“ _Baby_ ,” he groaned against her skin and she shivered. “Tell me how.”

“Get your knees under my hips if you can,” she lifted her legs and folded her own knees over his shoulders while he carried out her instructions, “you have to hold me still or I’ll slide up the bed the harder you fuck me.”

“Shit,” he swore softly, squeezing his eyes shut as he visibly reigned himself in.

Gerry used her knees over his shoulders as leverage to slide up and down, fucking herself on his cock while he tried to pull himself together. His eyes flew open at her audacity, and she felt his hands clench tight over her thighs to hold her still.

“Little minx,” he hissed at her, and for one startling moment his expression recalled a face he’d made in her first year when she’d forgotten a homework assignment.

He’d given her a week of detention.

Severus snapped his hips forward ruthlessly, _intentionally_ bruising her thighs if the ferocious look on his face were anything to go by. This mercurial man was going to give her whiplash. Emotionally and literally if he leaned over her any farther! He seemed to have spotted the trick of this position immediately, bending her near in half so her weight rested largely on her shoulders without needing to be told to put her there. Gerry wondered if it was his prodigious intellect that allowed him these insights or if he were plucking them magically from her mind, wicked sorcerer that he was.

He had fixed his gaze to hers again, his unhandsome face wearing the most beautiful open expression she’d seen on it yet. For all his body was hammering down into her, those bottomless eyes pinned her in place with his own rapt attention, lips parted with labored breaths. The many candles and magicked suns bathed him in light, leaving no room for shadow in any of the dips and contours of his body, every straining muscle and bead of sweat on full display.

Hmm and so was she. Gerry felt a smile break across her face and slid her hands under where the tops of her thighs nearly touched her breasts to fondle them. Severus’ eyes flickered down from her face to the tight space where she endeavored to pinch and twist her own nipples. A longing passed over his face so profound it led her to laugh softly.

“Next time,” she panted, “I’ll let you play with them next time.”

“Minx,” he repeated breathlessly, another one of those unpracticed smiles twisting his lips. This one slightly less awkward.

Her hands drifted lower to her twat, and she began rubbing her clit as vigorously as he fucked her. Severus made a pained groan when he saw her begin to pleasure herself, his hips bucked harder into her as his mind unraveled. She loved it when he got into the animal part of his brain, rutting mindlessly with eyes fixed wherever her naughty fingers wanted them. The excitement he must have felt watching her touch herself made her blood boil.

Severus made the most wonderful audience, moaning for her as he did when she spread the fingers of one hand in a V around her entrance, stroking him and stroking herself harder. He was so easy to please. Her pussy throbbed with approaching orgasm and she felt the sticky evidence of it seeping out around his cock, matting his hair and coating his balls as they slapped against her bum.

“Filthy girl,” he grunted above her, face a rictus of pleasure. He was sweating and shaking and perfect.

“You’re so hot, Severus. My God, you have no idea,” she heard herself gasp as she trembled on the precipice. “You’re so good!”

He seemed to shatter above her, expression breaking into desperation so pure it was blinding to look at. “Fucking take it! Take my cock and come, you nasty, _beautiful_ -!”

When she finally came down Severus was holding her tightly and trembling as he had the first time, quaking against her as his thrusts slowed. Between them was a delicious, sticky mess.

As soon as she caught her breath Gerry kissed his cheek, “you…you practiced that too… I know it.”

He drew in a ragged breath and half laughed, half choked at her ridiculous claim. Satiated joy had put a rosy color to Severus’ cheeks, she saw when he lifted his head. He propped his chin up on one hand and employed the other in stroking her cheek.

“Again I must ask on what you believe I could have practiced?”

“A cantaloupe? No, a pasty.”

He snorted, “that is disgusting.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Severus. I think you’d look sexy fucking anything.”

“Is this a _normal_ sort of pillow talk? It’s not, is it? You’re disturbed.”

“What on Earth do you imagine ‘normal’ pillow talk would be like?”

“You could perhaps say something complimentary about my performance?” he suggested, “I could tell you…I’ve never felt this way before.”

“Meh,” Gerry shrugged as though she didn’t need to hear exactly that. Her treacherous face was coloring, so it probably didn’t matter how nonchalant she tried to be. It almost never did. That’s why wasn’t a poker player. “It was sublime, though. Better than flying.”

“It was,” he agreed quietly, returning to his typical serious demeanor. He wasn’t looking at her with moon-eyed adoration, but it was a near thing. Not unlike their first tryst in the moonlit corridor when he seemed awed she’d bother with him, which was frankly heartbreaking. She was terrified of being vulnerable for him, not because she thought he’d intentionally hurt her, but because she thought he might not realize the depth of his own feelings. Seeing them reflected in someone else might send him into a panic. But not seeing them could be crushing.

She pulled his head down for another kiss. He returned it unhurriedly, sweeter than he’d ever kissed her before. With eyes closed tightly she asked, “do you want to stay?” and felt icy anxiety clench in her chest as the seconds ticked by before his reply.

His lips covered hers, not moving but pressing down with the barest amount of pressure. “I’m certainly not about to leave you alone to finish my wine…”

She laughed, and they finished the bottle together in bed.


	10. Chapter 10

Panicked pounding at the door sets Severus’ pulse racing as he tears out of bed. He is needed. The castle is under siege. Those under his care are in danger. He must act quickly to save as many of them as he can.

A figure appears in the doorway before him and he has his wand in his hand.

With light springing to life in the living room beyond, the figure was revealed to be his own Geraldine, and Severus’ head swum briefly as his brain parsed out past from present.

Gerry threw the door into the hall open, and Miss Pratt pushed her way in immediately. A shrill sobbing could be heard distantly.

“It’s Sheena O’Riley, she’s-” Pratt’s frantic eyes alighted on her Defense professor and her tongue stilled briefly. Gerry grasped Pratt’s chin and jerked it roughly so the young lady was once more looking at her head of house. Pratt continued without further prompting, “she’s fallen down the dungeon staircase and broken her leg. I- I think it’s broken in more than one place, Ma’am.”

“Get Madam Pomfrey,” Gerry spoke calmly and firmly, pulling on a dressing gown as she strode out into the hall. Pratt was off the moment she had her orders. Severus conjured a robe about his own bare shoulders and took off behind Geraldine in the direction of the Slytherin common room.

Uncanny familiarity washed over him as they went, Pratt peeling off to ascend the stairs which would take her out of the dungeons and up to the hospital wing. As with every other occasion he had run through the halls of this castle, when he knew someone awaited his aid, the running felt as slow as a dream. _Déjà vu_ made his stomach churn, the earlier uncertainty of what _year_ this was and what _face_ he was supposed to be putting on only added to the dreamlike quality of the experience.

A small group of Slytherins hovered in the common room doorway, gazing up the corridor opposite the direction their professors approached from.

“Professor Snape?” one of them asked quietly as they passed. Geraldine ignored them entirely in her rush past. Snape turned to them and barked, “back in bed. Now.”

The same sentiment of confusion was echoed perfectly a moment later by Albus Potter as they approached a larger assembly of students who had gathered around the source of the wailing.

“Professor Snape?” the morose Potter child did a double take when he saw the man accompanying his head of house. With those words, the heads of all gathered turned to look at them and Severus realized exactly how underdressed he was before an audience of young gawkers.

“Back to your beds,” he snapped, and got no better obedience than he suspected he’d got amongst the first group they’d passed. “Get back!” he snarled and the lot of them snapped into action, shrinking away from his anger gratifyingly. They edged their way back down the hallway, not actually returning to their common room but going far enough to be out of the way.

Geraldine was already standing over the prone form of Miss O’Riley, assessing the damage. The girl’s left leg was grotesquely bent in two places, an unnatural shape that had nausea swirling in Severus’ gut despite his long years of experience with the abhorrent. The sight could easily distract from the girl’s other injuries, but he was proud to see his lady’s evaluation was thorough, and she had not missed how O’Riley’s left wrist was ballooning. Likely a break there as well.

Gerry’s face was a bit pale, but she was otherwise calm as she continued looking for peripheral injuries.

“How did this happen?” Severus asked quietly, hoping to extract a true answer out of the child while her tongue was loose with pain.

“I-I fell!” the little thing sobbed, clutching her thigh and tossing her head from side to side. Tears and snot ran down her face unattractively.

“I can see that. _Why_ did you fall?”

“The top st-st-step! It was _frozen_!”

“And why were you out of bed?”

O’Riley cried harder. She shook her head. “Help me, please! Please!”

“Madam Pomfrey will be here shortly.” Gerry spoke softly, following Severus’ lead for de-escalation. “Try to calm down or you’ll make yourself sick,”

The girl took several labored breaths, guided by her head of house. They lengthened and slowed, though the crying did not stop, and Severus tried again.

“Why, Miss O’Riley?”

“I was…going to see Marcus,” she admitted, and the tears resumed.

“He was probably the one who froze the step!” a young lady behind them shouted. “Or it was that _awful_ Ravenclaw girl, Turner! She’s been trying to steal Marcus all year!”

“This is why we don’t date Gryffindors,” Gerry admonished. “And what’s this about Gemma Turner?”

“Marcus was supposed to-“ O’Riley sucked in a breath and resumed her sobbing, “to meet me! But when I got to our meeting place…he was…he was…!”

“Ah,” Geraldine nodded and rose to stand. Descending the stairs towards them was Poppy Pomfrey and a returning Ruby Pratt. Before they reached them, Gerry turned to Severus, “I believe there are one or more students you may find out of their beds, Professor Snape.”

He inclined his head to her and gratefully accepted the excuse she’d given him to leave as their nosey Mediwitch arrived on scene. The older woman’s eyes fixed on Severus for a scant moment as he passed, but she mercifully began her work without making any comment.

“Bed!” he heard Pratt shout, ushering the younger students to the dormitories now her previously delegated task was complete.

Severus did a survey of the likely places, checked the hiding spots along the path Ms. Turner or Mr. Adams would have taken to return to their respective common rooms. He found nothing and proceeded to the hospital wing to meet up with the other staff members.

Poppy had reversed most of the damage done to the leg and was working on O’Riley’s wrist when Severus joined them. Geraldine hovered by the bed but looked rather bored. She listened to his report and shrugged.

“We will see to them in the morning. You don’t suppose we need to wake the Headmistress, do you?”

“I believe that can wait until morning, as well,” Severus agreed.

“Is that robe new?” Poppy asked suddenly. “It’s quite luxurious. Rather unlike you, Severus.”

He looked down at himself with a more critical eye and realized what he’d conjured was more like the satiny things Wright favored than his typical cotton and wool. _For fucks sake._

“I was preoccupied when I materialized it,” he ground out.

“Yes, Miss Pratt told us she had…run into you while she was collecting Professor Wright,” the healer said evenly.

“Did she?” Anger flared white hot in his chest. Blasted children refused to keep their mouths closed like sensible adults.

O’Riley was looking at them now too, which boded _extremely well_ for this conversation staying _private_. Poppy continued, “strangely she seemed unable to explain the circumstances of your meeting, only that you had accompanied Professor Wright to the site of the incident. I had thought perhaps you were stalking the halls as is your habit, but you don’t seem dressed quite appropriately for that…”

“Do you have need of Professor Wright or myself, Madam?” he snapped.

Her professional demeanor gave way to a small smile, “oh no, I have this well in hand. You two are free to return to bed.”

Before the aggravating woman had finished speaking, he’d made his exit and was _en route_ to his rooms. He did not turn to see whether Gerry immediately followed him, but he expected she had enough tact no to. In any case, she did not make an appearance in his rooms at any point the rest of the night. She arrived several hours later at seven in the morning, looking like a little girl who’d been caught sneaking sweets before dinner.

“We’ve been summoned to the Headmistress’ office.”

Severus and Geraldine made their journey through the castle in total silence. He wondered if his lover felt as much like a naughty schoolboy as he did.

If she did, s _he_ was in all likelihood _enjoying_ it. The deviant.

Minerva rose from her seat when they entered and gestured wordlessly for them to each take a seat before her desk, and Geraldine did. Severus dithered briefly, then took up sentinel behind Gerry’s chair. He laid his hands on her shoulders. The lioness headmistress was not about to cow him. She couldn’t possibly sack them both.

Gerry craned her neck at an odd angle to give him an incredulous look, then snapped her eyes front as Minerva resumed her seat. A teapot floated hospitably over to them, filling two cups with sweet, light tea which hovered in midair until accepted. Severus left his floating and waited patiently for lecture, humiliation or both.

“How long has this been going on?”

“Whatever do you mean?” Gerry asked at the same time he retorted, “Why in blazes should that matter?”

“I’m certain at least one of you, being a _former headmaster_ , is aware relations between faculty are strictly forbidden.”

“Frowned upon,” Severus refuted at the same time Gerry snapped, “Could have fooled me.”

“Are you arguing with me?” Minerva asked sharply, mouth drawn into a line so fine Severus feared she may never speak again.

“Neville and Luna were not married when she accepted her position. Now they are… _with_ the blessing of the governors!” Gerry exclaimed. “One June we three founded the Divorced Professors Club, and by the next June there were wedding invitations posted in the faculty room! What did you all _think_ happened?!”

“Divorced…Professor’s… _Club_?” Severus kept his tone carefully devoid of amusement but was unable to avoid commenting on this new piece of information.

“That’s not the point,” Minerva and Gerry both chastised him.

“Luna and Neville were never caught in the altogether by a student!” Minerva continued, aghast.

Severus’ stomach plummeted like a stone. The color fled from his face so rapidly he became lightheaded. So, the Pratt girl had gotten a good look at him.

“That student entered a professor’s quarters without being invited in,” he ground out, shaking with the effort it took not to shout. “It is not as though we were in a common area.”

Funny, how many times they _had_ been partially undressed and fornicating in the common areas…and the time they were caught was in private. Minerva certainly didn’t need to know that.

“Severus is right, I did not invite her in, and he is well within his rights to be as undressed as he pleases when he’s not working.” Gerry pointed an accusatory finger at Minerva. “You have damn well set a precedent for our behavior, and so long as it doesn’t affect our workplace performance absolutely no one can lift a finger against us! A _nd you know it_!”

“I do know it,” Minerva nodded sagely. “I’m pleased to see such readiness to defend your relationship. There will be talk. You will be under the greatest of scrutiny…from the children, the governors and unfortunately from myself, as well.”

Severus felt Gerry’s shoulders soften under his hands. She sighed, “I’m sorry, Professor. We didn’t mean to put you in this position.”

“No, I’m certain you did not. Now, how serious is… _this_?” she gestured toward them.

Gerry looked back at him, biting her plump lower lip in the way that drove him mad. He felt the corner of his mouth twitch in the barest hint of a smile and squeezed her shoulders.

Minerva smiled. “Well, that’s fortunate. If you’d just been fooling around I doubt you’d be able to bear the stress of what’s to come. I can hardly stand to lose either of you in the middle of term.”

“Oi, who says we’re not just fooling around? I haven’t got a diamond. We’re hip young rebels, unconstrained by your old-fashioned mores.”

“Gerry, I just saw Severus Snape _smile_ at you without a hint of irony or malice. It’s serious.”

“I’ve seen him smile plenty of times, especially in instances of rule-breaking,” Gerry countered, turning briefly to give him a sly look over her shoulder. “He really likes assigning detentions.”

“I don’t want to hear anything that involves either of you giving ‘detention’ to each other,” Minerva smirked in a manner suggesting she really would like to hear all about it.

Severus sighed, “that is quite enough. Are we dismissed?”

“I thought you were hip young rebels? Surely you need not ask for dismissal?”

He extended his hand to Geraldine and assisted her out of the too-plush armchairs Minerva had preserved from Dumbledore’s furniture collection.

“My children,” Minerva stopped them as Gerry came to her feet. “You must endeavor to exude poise regardless of the negative attention you are certain to draw in the coming days.”

“She’s talking about _you_ ,” Gerry informed him, then brushed past to descend the staircase.

“I had gathered that,” Severus gave his reply to Minerva. The older woman gave him a deeply serious look, which was quickly ruined by an expression of motherly delight.

“She’s twenty-five years your junior,” she informed him in a stage whisper, unable to prevent herself from devolving into prim laughter at his expense. “I knew you were _bad_ , but _Severus_!”

“You’ve no idea how it pleases me to bring a glimmer of joy to an old woman in her… _golden years_. And she is only three years my junior, Minerva. _Good day_.”

“Of course…I wouldn’t want to keep you. I’m sure you both have plenty to _talk_ about.”

“Good day!” he repeated with finality and swept out of the tiresome old bag’s office. He caught up to Gerry at the landing and offered her his arm.

“Have you ever been the focus of speculation?” he asked her quietly.

“You mean worse than the normal school rumor mill? Just once. I was photographed standing next to Fergie at a benefit gala. She had spilled a bit of champagne on her dress and I was trying to help her clean it up, which naturally made me her lesbian concubine…she autographed the tabloid for me!”

“Fergie,” he parroted, slowly trying the word.

“Rita Skeeter has an obsession with you. No doubt we’ll have to endure some hellfire from that awful woman. Did you see the piece in Witch Weekly at the start of term? It was out so fast, she must not have slept between the moment she heard you’d been brought back from the dead and when the thing was published.”

“No,” he said emphatically. He had not read it. He’d been concerned about what he might do to Skeeter if he had.

“She’ll forget us as quickly as the next scandal can unfold. Perhaps Draco would be willing to martyr himself for us…”

Severus heard himself make an anxious noise, and Gerry squeezed his arm. “It won’t be nearly as bad as whatever Minerva is imagining. I’m sure of it.”

The pair parted ways at the base of the grand staircase, Geraldine venturing forth to locate the Longbottoms and inform them of their students’ suspected involvement in the previous night’s delinquency, Severus proceeding to the Great Hall to collect his breakfast.

An abrupt ripple of silence passed through the assembled children as he entered. Their absence while visiting the headmistress’ office had provided the Slytherins (who all awoke and arrived at breakfast bright and early) ample time to distribute details of the late night excitement amongst their classmates in other houses…wildly embellished, of course.

Every child was staring at him.

Severus put on his coldest glare and let it rove over the lot of them. For the most part their little faces turned contrite before blessedly turning away. To his utter terror, a small percentage of them, mostly older girls, did not. A sixth or seventh year Hufflepuff girl whose name he did not know because she had never been in his class, blushed and smiled at him.

He made a point of berating her loudly, making an example of the young lady to deter additional interactions of this nature. “Cease your simpering and either return to eating or vacate your seat.”

“Yes, Professor Snape,” she answered without the good grace to look even a little put out.

_Fuck!_

He stormed to the front of the room and threw himself into the empty chair as far from the rest of his colleagues as possible. The beans and toast on his plate were chewed and swallowed without being tasted, he was too busy alternately keeping his eyes fixed on his cutlery and try to set gawkers on fire with sneers alone. He fought the persistent blush which spread over his neck and ears and threatened to overtake his face by taking frequent sips of water. It did absolutely nothing to quell the heat under his high collar. When he’d finally taken enough bites that he felt he could leave without it being perceived as cowardly fleeing, he made his retreat.

Classes were an exercise in self-control the likes of which he hadn’t brought to bear since his reign as headmaster, when students were being tortured in the dungeons under his watch.

The first two were composed of lower-level students, and he rose to their bait rather shamefully. In all he was forced to take upwards of twenty points and still was not able to maintain control over them. By the time the upper classmen came to their scheduled time in his classroom he had resolved to ignore their spiteful behavior completely. As a strategy this worked much better but still failed to curb their endeavors. It seemed the little hellions had lost sight of their fear for the much-reviled Defense master, in light of the reminder that he had the capacity for tender emotions. All the work he’d done to reinstate his dour reputation and dismantle the legend of romantic heroism that had surrounded him in September was utterly undone.

Lunch was worse by far than breakfast – by then the story had evolved to include a sundry of erroneous details bordering on tawdry. He took a seat at Minerva’s right side. Severus poured himself a tall glass of ice water and slammed the carafe down on the table.

“Poise, Severus, dear,” the headmistress reminded him.

“You can bloody well take your _poise_ and-”

A bout of unnatural quiet eerily like the one that morning interrupted him. He didn’t need to look up to know Geraldine had also made her entry, but raised his head nonetheless. She gave him a grave nod and seated herself at the opposite end of the table. Heated whispering spread across the house tables. Not even the scandal of the ill-fated Slytherin-Gryffindor couple whose breakup had catalyzed this whole thing was tantalizing enough to serve sufficient distraction. For two and a half minutes Severus Snape’s clavicle had been visible, and the castle would not rest.

So far he’d overheard nothing regarding his nudity, and was starting to hope Ruby Pratt had not shared that detail with her classmates even if she had told Poppy Pomfrey.

He took dinner in his own quarters. _Alone_.

Geraldine was absent from his evening, which was fine. He could only assume she was having second thoughts, now that he could no longer be her dirty little secret. Which was also _fine_. _He_ might just have second thoughts about _her_ –frivolous, muggle-loving witch.

Two non-consecutive decades living under the terror of the Dark Lord with all the poise necessary to protect as many as he could on both sides…and now he lived under the tyranny of teenage gossips obsessed with the romantic lives of their professors because their own were so unfulfilling.

By breakfast the following morning he was acrimonious. His mood was not improved by that morning’s edition of the Prophet. Geraldine had resolutely taken the seat beside him at breakfast, and upon the arrival of his copy of the paper snatched it out of his hands, flipped immediately to the society page and almost as quickly ignited the sheets of parchment with magical fire.

“Professor Wright,” Minerva admonished softly without looking up from her porridge, “at this late stage of your tenure I feel I should not need inform you that setting fires at the high table is not tolerable behavior.”

Geraldine ignored the reprimand and made with spreading marmalade over a slice of toast. A look of total satisfaction on her face even as she spread with enough aggression to carve rather than spread the fruity compote.

Severus turned to the Slytherin table, and although it was too far across the hall from their seats for him to make his request verbal, simply holding out his hand to the first snake who met his gaze was sufficient. Mister Scorpius Malfoy, ever more helpful than his father, scurried up to the high table to hand over his own copy of the paper.

“Good morning, Sir. Ma’am,” he nodded to Geraldine as well. Severus snatched the paper from him.

“Sir, I don’t think you should see that. My family is in the gossip columns all the time, you know… life’s a lot easier when you don’t read that rubbish, Sir.”

“Mister Malfoy, you are dismissed,” Gerry said primly. Severus flipped through the paper. She wisely did not try to stop him a second time.

“Okay, but I just want you to know, Ma’am, I’ve told them all to stop spreading rumors. It’s totally inappropriate – erm, the rumor-spreading that is, not you and uh…I’m mean what _you’re doing_ isn’t inappropriate. Not that I would know! It’s just what I heard.”

“ _Malfoy_ , I strongly suggest you get to a minimum safe distance before he sees the headline.”

Severus ignored them both until he found the column in question tucked into the top left and curving down the center of the page. Not the primary headline, but above the fold and indeed the work of Rita Bleeding Skeeter, ensuring massive readership.

_SEVERUS SNAPE’S SURPRISING SLYTHERIN PARAMOUR IS A MUGGLE-BORN_

_Former servant of the Dark Lord (and supposed contributor to his demise) Severus Snape has managed to avoid public scrutiny after his apparent resurrection by concealing himself within the protective wards of Hogwarts School where members of the press such as Rita Skeeter, yours truly, have been barred entry by Headmistress Minerva McGonagall’s draconian “protections” of staff and students. These misguided regulations, likely enacted to shelter the former Death Eater in question, can do nothing to stop the truth pouring into my inbox. Concerned sources from within the castle walls have contacted me urgently with disturbing new information as to Snape’s activities._

_One might expect that the reappointed professor would have a heavy enough workload resuming the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts Instructor, but Snape has apparently found time for more frivolous endeavors including scantily clad and public liaisons with the longtime muggle studies teacher, Mrs. Geraldine Weight._

_Many have speculated as to his role in the most recent Wizarding War. Some have claimed certainty of his goodness, like the trusting and frequently overzealous Head of Magical Law Enforcement, Harry Potter. Others of us have done enough research into Snape’s personal history to gain clearer understanding of his mind’s inner workings and know the real story to be less than noble. For full details, be sure to pick up a copy of my award-winning bestseller,_ Severus Snape: Saint or Scoundrel?

_For those of us who know who this man truly is in his heart of hearts, we must question the validity of such claims. After all, it is said that his love for Lily Potter (who was married to James Potter at the time of Snape’s infatuation) is what motivated him to recklessly risk life and limb occasionally passing semi-relevant information on the Dark Lord to Dumbledore’s Army during the war. Weight, who had not yet been born during the last war, surely cannot understand the depravity of the Dark Lord’s followers. One can be certain she has no concept of the sort of man she now cavorts with. Nor could she possibly understand the depth of emotion necessary for Snape to possess if one believes the stories told of his “bravery” and love of Lily Potter. If those tales are true, that love would be the sort of everlasting flame mere lust like Snape and Weight are dallying in could never compare to._

_The girl, thirty-five years his junior, is allegedly a divorcee, but no record could be found of her marriage to Mr. Weight being dissolved, and thus my integrity as a correspondent of the press prevents me from acknowledging such claims. Having had no luck in love previously, it’s little wonder the poor girl has been ensnared by the machinations of an unarguably deviant mind such as Severus Snape’s._

_Does Snape working overtime after hours with Hogwarts’ teacher of muggle-studies prove the mysterious wizard’s sympathy for Muggles and Muggle-borns? Or does it disprove the wild tales of a well-known misanthrope’s secretly tender heart? Will Severus Snape ever aspire to be anything greater than a homewrecker? More importantly, with the steamy stories reaching my desk, just what are they teaching the children at Hogwarts these days?_

He folded the newspaper crisply along its creases and set it down on the table.

“Did you read the whole thing?” Gerry asked.

“Yes.”

“Are you satisfied?”

“That is not the word for it.”

“Don’t read any more of what that dreadful woman pens. Or anyone else for that matter,” Gerry suggested gently, nibbling on her toast.

Severus gave a snort and said flatly, “you aren’t going to read it.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Hmmm…” he spooned a helping of porridge into his own bowl, faltering momentarily when he felt a gentle touch on his knee.

Gerry gave him a small smile, and he didn’t have to reach for her mind with his own to hear the unasked _is this okay?_ as she gently squeezed his leg under the table.

He scanned the hall for onlookers, of which there were plenty. They were already talking about them, he supposed, it wasn’t as though there was much left to hide. Severus placed his hand atop hers under the table. Fairly subtle, as displays went. Certainly, very few could see it…and offering her tenderness was…pleasing. Surprisingly so.

“Since everyone knows we’re an item, we don’t have to avoid being seen together…would you like to participate in movie night tonight?” Gerry asked lightly. When he opened his mouth to deny her, she lowered her voice to a whisper, “you can’t leave me to fend off that many students _alone_.”

Severus rolled his eyes but stroked the back of her hand below the table. “Very well. I am nothing if not chivalrous.” He paused a beat, then realized he’d agreed without asking an important question, “what will you be showing?”

“2001: A Space Odyssey,” she said brightly. “ _Classic_. Maybe the best there ever was…”

Gerry had set up camp at a desk in the back row when Severus arrived, which was clearly the best vantage point for monitoring the hormone addled youth trickling into the room. Severus made his way over and determinedly tamped down his hesitancy as he sat beside her. As more students entered, a mishmash of additional chairs were conjured and pushed into every available empty space, until the area in front of the projection screen became an archipelago of friend groups from different houses and years.

Many of the assembled students shot glances at the couple, but wisely refrained from commenting loud enough for either professor to hear. It seemed for a moment that the tide of scandalized excitement which affected children more intensely than adults would sweep them up into a fit of ‘ _Ooo’ing_ when Gerry leaned in for a whispered conversation with him…yet miraculously they restrained themselves until the film began to roll, and apes beating each other to death distracted the lot of them from their chaperones.

Severus cast a sideways look at Geraldine. “Is the rest of the film this violent?” he whispered.

“Sweetheart, you don’t know what violent film _is_.”

Just as he was growing to enjoy the novel experience, a group of wizards taking part in a traditional Muggle pastime, a dark cloud emerged. The arrival of Harry Potter should not have been as surprising as it was. The meddlesome prat was always flitting about in Severus’ business–why should this be any exception? And his business was public knowledge this week.

Potter appeared in the doorway of the Muggle Studies classroom, as startlingly old as the last time Severus had seen him. He was reminded that Potter had aged beyond himself, had experienced a wealth of milestones Severus’ occupation as a spy had prevented him from pursuing. Marriage. Children. The _boy_ was a man more worldly and mature than Severus, and he carried himself with the effortless confidence which accompanied his growth.

It made him unpleasant to look at, and Severus gratefully returned his attention to the screen and affected nonchalance. He feigned irritated disinterest but listened closely as Potter approached Geraldine.

“Daddy!” Lily Potter exclaimed loudly, then flushed when the outburst generated tittering from her peers. The girl behaved like a child much younger than eleven, Severus bristled. Coddled by her parents, no doubt.

“That’s enough,” Gerry scolded the assembled children, “quiet down or I’ll take points.”

Lily squeezed between her friends until she was free of the seating, then rushed over to her father. The elder Potter swept her up in his arms in a tight embrace. They had a quiet little talk while Gerry gave Severus a look clearly asking ‘ _is he here for you?’_

Severus shrugged more casually than he felt and waited. Escorting his daughter back to her seat, Potter nodded to Geraldine.

“Professor Wright, sorry to turn up unannounced. May I have a word?”

“Don’t be silly. It’s lovely to see you,” she rose to meet him, students parting diligently for her passage, and to Severus’ shock they _embraced_. Like _friends_.

The students seated in front of him were turning in their seats, craning their necks for a glance at the world’s most famous wizard. Severus kept his focus straight ahead, though he scarcely observed the dramatic spacewalk sequence happening on screen through the red clouding his vision. Potter was ignoring him completely. The audacity of that man, to accidentally resurrect someone and then totally neglect their wellbeing afterward. Perhaps he shouldn’t feel such a deep a pang of envy for personal development when he looked at the insufferable man.

“My office?” Geraldine asked, and Severus carefully did not watch them progress up the stairs, and absolutely would not make eye contact with Potter as he closed the door behind them.

With a dizzying array of incomprehensible psychedelic imagery, the film concluded. Pratt rose from her place near the front of the room and made her way over to where Severus was seated. He felt his face and neck turn instantly crimson when she looked at him, and he gave her a look he half-hoped could kill. She cleared her throat awkwardly and snatched up a folded piece of parchment Gerry had left on her desk beside him.

Geraldine’s _assistant_ unfolded the paper and read aloud from it what were apparently essay prompts, for anyone hoping to earn extra credit. She spoke loudly and confidently with diligent enunciation, pausing after each prompt to allow those scribbling them down time to write. “Is ‘2001’ an accurate or inaccurate depiction of humans’ relationship with technology? Is artificial intelligence a threat to life on Earth, and why? What do you think the monolith represents, and what does the final sequence of the film mean?... if you’re going to write an essay make sure you have it in to Professor Wright by end of day Monday!”

“Thanks, _Pratt_!” an older boy who’d been sitting on the other side of the room shouted, and there was some chuckling. The students rose and began to disassemble, groups of inter-house friends loitering in the hall before breaking up to return to their common rooms.

“Have a good night, _Pratt_ ,” sneered an unpretty Ravenclaw girl as her gaggle of friends sauntered past the Slytherin head girl. She ignored them entirely, thought she’d have been within her rights to take points. Severus did nothing to punish this behavior either, rather pleased to watch the students who’d been making _him_ suffer make _her_ suffer, as well.

Pratt went about tidying up and shutting down the viewing equipment, shooting little looks at the closed office door and at Severus. Once she’d run out of things to clean and could no longer wait for her mistress without being too obvious about it, Pratt turned to him.

“Sir-”

“Unless you have a question pertaining to Defense Against the Dark Arts, Miss Pratt, I suggest you avoid speaking to me.”

Pratt’s shoulders slumped, “I didn’t-!”

“You clearly, _obviously_ did!”

“I didn’t tell Madam Pomfrey you were naked!” she shouted and Severus bristled.

He hissed, “keep your voice down, you daft girl!”

“I didn’t know what to tell her. I just sort of… _stammered_ and she must have figured it out. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to come up with a lie, Sir.”

Severus rolled his eyes. He leaned back in his seat and crossed his legs, settling in for a longer conversation, “No surprise there, considering your mentor can’t lie worth a damn.”

Pratt smiled a little, then ventured shyly, “maybe someone else should teach me?”

“Woe be to that poor sod,” he scoffed, soundly rejecting her before she could ask more directly. “Go back to your dormitory, Miss Pratt.”

She pursed her lips, looking not unlike Minerva McGonagall. With a face clearly reflecting her wonder at what her mistress might see in this awful man, Pratt turned and left without another word.

He’d have taken points for her rudeness were he not glad to see her go.

He waited.

He could hear nothing of the discussion inside the office. How long had it been? No more than twenty minutes, surely.

Having spent so many years of his life listening at keyholes, Severus knew eavesdropping on a conversation so long after it began could leave dire context holes. Were he caught it might destroy what trust he’d built with Geraldine.

It was also an impossible habit to break at this late stage.

He rose with the intention of taking up a position by the door, and when it cracked open he dropped immediately into an even more deeply engrained habit: darting out of sight. He slipped silently into the kitchen space and a humming refrigerator.

“Looks like we missed your chance to say goodnight to Lily,” Gerry remarked of the empty room. “Perhaps you belabored your point for too long?”

Potter laughed, the sound like shards of glass on Severus’ nerves. “I guess I did, yeah.”

“Yeah, you and everyone else I know…” he heard her sigh. “Hey, you know him better than most…can he _read minds_?”

That left little question as to the topic of their discussion. And blast her perception! He’d been carelessly obvious about probing her mind…but he’d wanted _so_ to please her.

Potter laughed again, _carefree_ and _joyous_. The ponce.

“The mind is not a book to be read at one’s leisure,” he replied with comedic darkness.

Geraldine laughed then. “Oof. Your impression of him is awful…is that a yes, then? He’s told _you_ about it?”

The hint of jealousy in her voice was gratifying.

“It is called legilimency. He taught me the counter-art of protecting one’s mind from intrusion. Or he was forced to _try_ anyway. I never was any good at it.”

“Wow,” Gerry said with what might have been awe, “during the war? Incredible man, our Severus.”

“Now who is belaboring their point?”

“Right. I’ve had about all I can take of you, tiresome Gryffindor. Don’t you have a wife to get home to?”

“That I do. I had hoped to have a word with Severus too but…we really did chat too long, didn’t we? He’d probably hex me, anyway. Ginny said if he did she wouldn’t avenge me. Thinks I’d deserve it.”

“Hmm he can be vindictive,” Gerry agreed, and Severus heard them make their way to the door and out into the hall. “Not as much as I remember though…”

Creeping out of the classroom after them, Severus proceeded in the opposite direction he knew they’d be heading and slunk down to Geraldine’s rooms. He took up the book he’d taken to leaving there for stints such as this and flipped through it agitatedly.

Geraldine appeared some ten minutes later and flopped down on the settee beside him.

“What was _Potter_ after?” he made a valiant effort to avoid snapping at her but could not avoid spitting the odious boy’s name.

“Oh nothing interesting. He gave me a shovel talk.”

“A…a _shovel_ talk?” Severus closed his book resolutely and gave her a look of confused denigration. Her odd turns of phrase were at once charming and exhausting. Just once he wished he’d know what she was on about.

“Yeah. You know, ‘if you hurt my mean old potions master I’ll kill you dead.’ That sort of thing.”

Severus heard himself growl, “he threatened you?”

“He did not expressly threaten me,” she held up her hand in a placating gesture. “He did ask if the rumors were true and what my intentions with you were…it seems he was concerned I’d callously toy with your heart. I had to swear I’d treat you right before he’d go away.”

“Gryffindors,” Severus scoffed. Gerry nodded and wound her arms around his middle. “Did you…speak of anything else?”

“Hmm? No, just you.”

“Anything else about me?”

Gerry lifted her head from his shoulder and gave him a suspicious look. Her eyes widened in a comical manner. Her gaze intensified and Severus knew she was _thinking at him_ as if to test for telepathy.

He felt a smirk curl his lips, “fine then, you needn’t tell me…I have ways of finding out,” he assured her darkly and leaned in to distract her from her mind games with a kiss.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that I have updated the tags to include bondage and denial. If that's an issue for you, be aware that's now present.

Severus had all but taken up residence in Geraldine’s quarters. His old quarters. He remembered with a hot bolt of guilt the violet she’d given him which had languished unattended in his tower bedroom for longer than a week, so many nights had passed without him taking repose there. Dashing up to his rooms between classes he saw to its need for watering, then fetched the slippers and nightcap he’d missed having at night in the dungeons during a particularly nasty cold snap earlier that week.

Each evening with his lady was an exercise in comfort and peace, whether their activities were carnal in nature or more mundane. Each day was a trial of stamina and mental fortitude. Romantic clues or motivations were attached to his every word, and he presumed Geraldine’s experience was similar though they did not speak of it. Punishing the children for gossip only fanned the fires of the rumor mill. For every copy of the paper with that damned article he confiscated, three more seemed to end up in circulation. They were a hydra of puerile speculation he faced with a tissue sword.

Given his inability to dissuade the whispers (jeering, more like, it was nothing so quiet as whispering), Severus made no attempt at stealth when he made his next appearance in the Muggle Studies classroom. The advanced class was putting on a dinner party, Gerry’s own version of the Slug Club, but this was not by invitation only. The kitchen area looked as busy as a beehive, with students of different houses and years darting about preparing the various courses. So preoccupied was this group that they paid him no mind when he entered, the first time he’d experienced such a mercy in near a week.

Near the outskirts of the work area, Geraldine was inspecting the work of a less-somber-than-usual Ruby Pratt and Rose Granger-Weasley. Between the three ladies was a towering _croque-en-bouche_ which he presumed was what had the Gryffindor and Slytherin girls looking so smug.

“It doesn’t need a stasis charm, Professor,” Granger-Weasley insisted. “It’ll hold.”

“Well, that’s foolhardy,” Pratt shot back at her partner, though the words held no malice.

“I have to agree with Miss Pratt–though I’m sure it would hold without one!” Gerry pacified the younger of the two girls before she could protest, “It would be a tragedy if we were wrong. Slytherin self-preservation has you outvoted two to one, Gryffindor.”

“Make that three,” Severus glided forward to stand beside his colleague. Gerry’s face lit up, while the young ladies had more guarded reactions, a silent look passing between them.

“Severus,” Gerry gave him a tender look which a week ago would have had him scolding her. Today it didn’t bother him at all. On the contrary, he felt an odd sort of pleasure at being singled out for her affection in front of witnesses. “Will you be joining us for dinner or are you here on business?”

“I’m not here on business, so I suppose that leaves the former.”

“I’ll transfigure another chair…” Pratt informed them gravely and wandered off.

“Huh. For a second there I could have sworn she was having fun, guess the moment’s passed,” Granger-Weasley mused.

“Go help the first years,” Gerry gestured over to where a group of four children were trying to boil water without magic.

Their student fired off an enthusiastic “yes, ma’am!” and made her way over to the struggling underclassmen, leaving them alone at the edge of the chaos. Geraldine nodded toward her office door and led Severus away from the meal preparations. She wisely positioned herself in the doorway to keep an eye on the proceedings. Severus reclined in one of her guest chairs, leaning his elbow on the edge of her desk. In doing so he bumped a stack of Prophets collected on its corner.

He raised an eyebrow at her and nodded to the stack, “you as well?” She made a scoffing noise and rolled her eyes. “You still have not read it?”

She shrugged and averted her eyes from his own, “of course not. It’s _poison_.”

“You are a terrible liar,” he drawled. Severus crossed his legs and relaxed further into his plush seat, “do you wish to discuss it?”

She waved him off, peering critically at the activities in the classroom below them. Reassurance was not one of his talents. Perhaps practice would suit him, but if she was not interested in a dialogue on the topic, he certainly wouldn’t push for it. He’d be damned if repression wasn’t a fitting course; they were both English. Instead, he asked what she’d covered in her classes that day. She took a seat in the chair beside him while they discussed the finer points of instruction on the brewing of sneezing serum and anti-delirium draught until Miss Pratt poked her head cautiously in the door (perhaps concerned to again find them indecent) and alerted them dinner was ready.

The fifteen or so assembled pupils had prepared a passable meal. Some bits over or under cooked, but not ruined, and what’s more there was plenty for all present. The _croque-en-bouche_ did not fall down, though Granger-Weasley announced with pride that she had removed the stasis charm while Pratt was busy sticking her nose in everyone’s dishes before dinner. This caused something of an uproar at the table, and Geraldine set them all to start the washing up before war could break out between the snakes and lions present.

As clumps of children began to make their way out of the classroom nearly every one stopped to bid their professors farewells fraught with thinly veiled innuendo ranging from, “we hope you and Professor Snape have a _really good night_ , Professor Wright,” to “don’t stay up too late _grading our essays_ , Professor Snape.”

But then it was over, and they were gone.

Pratt was the last to leave, which Severus was coming to realize was her custom. First in and last out. He felt a grudging appreciation begin to form. Pratt ensured the classroom had been set to rights and was ready for classes the next morning, then bid them a more appropriate adieu than her peers had seen fit.

“Miss Pratt,” Severus spoke softly to stop her in her tracks, “your little pastry tower was quite impressive. Have you assembled one before?”

Pratt looked briefly taken aback, then blushed under the praise she obviously craved. “No, Sir.”

“And without magic. Nicely done,” he gave her a polite nod and the young woman gave a little half-smile.

Geraldine laughed. “Goodness, that’s almost as good as a handshake from Paul Hollywood.”

Pratt gave a small smile, “thank you, Sir. A compliment from you is even better than a Hollywood Handshake.”

“Somehow, I already regret it. Good night, Miss Pratt.”

“Goodnight, Professors!” Pratt chirped and made a hasty retreat, as though she were escaping before Severus could find a reason to be displeased with her.

Gerry put a hand on his arm, “Paul Hollywood is a-”

“I absolutely _do…not…care_ ,” Severus cut her off and with a flick of his wrist the classroom door slammed shut. He swept Geraldine into his arms and gleefully carried her bridal style into her office. Gerry twisted in his arms to viciously sweep the _Prophets_ off the corner of her desk so Severus could lay her there. The sound of tearing newsprint issued from under his boots as he fucked her.

Despite her _blasé_ attitude towards the article, Geraldine was frowning down at him when he awoke the following morning. She’d been watching him sleep, and not in a lovesick reverie. Not a _pleasant_ one, anyway. Once he’d opened his eyes fully the crease between her brows relaxed and a smile quirked her lips. Dainty fingers stroked through his hair, smoothing out the nighttime tangles. He’d seen it though, her uncertainty. Did she even realize what was plain on her face? Was she hiding it from him or herself?

Severus wrapped his arms around her, drew her body down against his to take possession of her mouth. He caressed her sides, tried to infuse the kiss with every ounce of desire and affection for her that had taken root in his heart. She gave a sweet moan and moved to straddle him, an effort he halted with a hand on her hip. He couldn’t just let her ride him and move on with her day like she was fine. He couldn’t just leave it be. He had to say something. _Do_ something if she wouldn’t.

When he stopped her she gave him an expectant look. Loathe as he was to discuss his feelings, this was the moment. A pregnant pause hung between them, but the words would not come. A lump formed in his throat. _I love you_ seemed to be the thing one might say in this situation. It didn’t sit right in his gut, let alone his mouth, and it certainly wasn’t tripping off his tongue. _‘Are you in love, you absolute fool?’_ he wondered. _‘Is she?’_

Gerry placed a hand on his cheek, “you _are_ allowed to tell me if you’re not in the mood for sex.”

He stroked the crest of her hip bones and thought a little harder. He took too long to answer, and she laid another kiss on his lips before leaving him in bed. Severus got himself up and dressed while she did the same, pinning back her hair and dressing in one of the suits she wore on days she had Muggle Studies. Her mood did not seem dampened by his rejection, she gave him a deeply sensuous kiss before they departed the dungeons for breakfast, her interactions with staff and students in the common areas were amicable…but the light was gone from her eyes.

Severus felt he knew how she must feel. Gerry knew that she should be unaffected by the irksome Skeeter woman’s words. But she _was_ affected. She must feel weak, or stupid for her doubts. Doubt had begun to fester within himself, though not surrounding his feelings for Lily. Those he thought he’d at last laid to rest. It was the quality of his character Severus doubted. Surely he deserved happiness, Harry _blessed_ Potter had brainwashed that into him before he’d left the ministry safehouse to restart his life. No, what he doubted very much was that he could be a good steward of another person’s happiness.

Fear and doubt had done little to deter him in the past.

He took his leave from the Great Hall before his lady had finished her breakfast, intercepting the late arrival of Scorpius Malfoy and Albus Potter. Malfoy greeted his professor brightly, to the embarrassment of his companion.

“Mister Malfoy, have you any questions regarding potion making you might pose to Professor Wright this morning?”

“Not really. I mean, I’m always ready to talk brewing, but the reading for this week was pretty basic. Sir.”

Severus resisted the urge to massage his temples.

“I think he wants you to distract Professor Wright,” Albus elbowed his friend.

Malfoy’s eyes widened and a large smile broke out on his face. “I can do that! I’m great at that!”

“Dumbledore’s beard,” Potter rolled his eyes and made to drag the other boy away from their ailing professor before he could develop a migraine.

Severus grabbed them by the backs of their robes to stop them in their tracks, “Mister Malfoy, I’d like her _delayed_ , not diverted.”

“You got it, Sir! You can count on me!”

“How long, Sir?” Potter wisely asked, a dour counterpoint to Malfoy’s effervescence. ‘ _He lives up to my name_ ,’ Severus mused.

“Two minutes should be sufficient.”

“We won’t let you down, Sir,” the boy actually saluted him. “Hey wait, is this like, _spy stuff_? Are we on a _mission_?”

Potter snorted, “as if he’d trust you with something clandestine.”

“Is this for something romantic? Are we helping you with something-?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Severus hissed, “now _get on with it_.”

Albus Potter displayed his good sense once more by tugging Malfoy’s sleeve until he took the hint and proceeded into the hall with his friend. Severus made haste around the corner to the Muggle Studies room and was pleased to find it devoid of students. Not wanting to be caught and unsure how reliable his recruits would be, he ascended the stairs to Gerry’s office two at a time. He hesitated in front of her desk, thinking quickly but second guessing his every idea. Red Chrysanthemum? Arbutus? Too forward. Gardenia? Too generic. Jonquil? No, she could think it was a daffodil and be insulted.

He was out of time. Hastily he conjured a bowl of wallflowers and fled, heart pounding in his throat. He regretted his choice instantly. It was a cop out. Utterly sanitized of emotion. She deserved better.

Defeated even before the day had really begun, he trudged upstairs to his own office. No sooner had he sat behind his desk than he looked up to discover Geraldine hovering in the doorway. In her hands were the blossoms he’d too recently left for her. Their intense orange color vibrated neatly against the sky blue of her suit jacket.

“I had to look these up in my floriography book. ‘Fidelity in adversity.’ That sounds stuffy like you. That fits our conundrum pretty well …so, why do I get the feeling that’s not what you really wanted to say?”

“Don’t you have a class to prepare for?” he snapped. Heat spread under his collar, but he wasn’t blushing. He was rocketing past irritated up to livid.

“I have all the time in the world, remember? And by extension, so do you.”

Severus felt his face go tight and hard. He narrowed his eyes at her, “then by all means, Professor, continue.”

“No, _you_ continue. What’s going on? You’ve been acting strangely since you woke.”

“ _You_ have been acting strangely since you read that awful tripe,” he spat, “I hardly know what’s to be done. I haven’t nearly as much experience in…” Severus gestured awkwardly between them. Relationships. Love. “…as you do.”

Geraldine’s lips thinned and she took a sharp breath through her nose. She sighed it out, then turned to look over her shoulder into the classroom. What she saw prompted her to close and lock the door.

“I do not have time for this,” Severus insisted, rising to usher her out and begin his first class of the day.

“Actually, you do. And you can’t leave this room. You’re already out there.”

The bones in his hands made audible cracks as he clenched his fists. He shook his head, “so your answer is to trap me in here with you, at the peril of rupturing spacetime?”

“I can’t say if it was my idea or yours, darling. We haven’t made the decision yet. We just know we’re going to make it later.” She glanced down at her wristwatch and informed him, “it’s four to nine, by the way.”

“Damn you!” he shouted, and Geraldine hastily put up a silencing charm.

“Is that it? That’s what you want to tell me?” she asked calmly, and it infuriated him.

“NO! _You_ are the one failing to be forthcoming! Pretending you are fine is… insipid! How can I be…how can I do…whatever it is I’m supposed to be doing?!” he was ranting. Pacing fiercely about the office, he was spitting mad. “I haven’t a clue what you want from me, or what you need from me!”

“Holy shit,” she swore lowly, then took a seat on the visitor side of the desk. “I’m really afraid this is going to piss you off more but…you lost me, Sev. _Why_ do you feel like you don’t know what I want from you?”

“Because you won’t _tell me_ ,” he insisted, and was unhappy to hear the exclamation was bordering on a wail, so profound was his frustration.

“I told you the night I kissed you, Severus. I want to be the only person you’re nice to,” she said gently. “Which, by the way, you were almost nice to Ruby Pratt last night and my little heart can’t take it. So watch that.”

“Stop deflecting,” he begged shamelessly, “I am apparently on the edge of a nervous breakdown and you are making jokes!”

“Alright, I’m sorry. I’ll be serious. You’re already giving me what I want. Is that acceptable?”

“I…” he floundered, feeling suddenly foolish. The ire drained instantly from his heart, leaving his limbs heavy with exhaustion. Severus came around the desk and dropped into the chair next to hers.

“Are you…?” she took a steadying breath and then took his hands in hers, “are you maybe upset because I _don’t_ want something more than what you’re giving me?”

He thought on this briefly, then shook his head. Much calmer than he had been, he tried again to parse out his feelings, “I am unhappy…because that article saddened you. You are denying that fact, and…and you are not seeking reassurance from me. I want you to need it.”

And Merlin, was that the truth? That was the crux of it, wasn’t it? That she’d rather shove the feelings down than share them with him.

And being upset by _that_ was pure hypocrisy.

“I am sad about it,” she admitted dispassionately. “I hate that it made me sad. I hate myself for being stupid enough to read it when I know better. Ugh, and that’s just what wretched bitch wants…oh, and since we’re talking about her awful lies, my divorce isn’t on the records because I married a Muggle. And he was a yank, so we got married in the States. I just want you to know, I’m not still married to him. That was bullshit.”

Severus waved her off, “I presumed as much. But thank you.”

They stared at each other in silence a moment before he let out a long sigh. It seemed foolish now to have thrown a fit over the absence of something so small. He felt better despite the embarrassment creeping up his spine.

“Well? Don’t you want to reassure me now?” Gerry asked, squeezing his hands.

“I believe reassurances should be given by an assured person to an unassured one,” Severus murmured, then more quietly, “not the other way ‘round.”

“That so? Why don’t you give it a try, anyway? See how it suits you? Besides, it could be I’m just too proud to admit I need it. A chivalrous bloke like you should be sensitive to that.”

He stroked the backs of her hands with his thumbs and looked deep into her eyes – they had thankfully regained their sparkle. She gave him a little smile Severus couldn’t help but return. It didn’t stick though, a frown resuming its customary twist of his lips. He gave her what he hoped was an earnest look and said, “I do not love a dead woman more than you.”

Gerry’s eyes fell closed and she smiled with pure happiness, “ _I know_.”

The tension that held his shoulders and spine rigid slid out of his body, and Severus slumped in the chair. Warm relief swept over his face and chest from scalp to fingertips. Relief that he spoke the words he’d been thinking very hard for days and they sounded sincere, made the knowledge real. His lady looked to be feeling the same irrational joy at hearing and saying and sharing what was obviously true.

“Actually, it’s really nice to hear. You can tell me that anytime. Especially if you look at me all dark and serious like.”

“Little chit,” he grumbled and yanked her forward into his lap. She laughed and laughed, kissing his face everywhere she could until he quelled her mouth by covering it with his own. Severus held her head firmly in place, dominating her with lips and tongue until she abruptly jerked away. A look of delight lit up her face.

“Severus! Do you realize what’s just happened?”

“I fear to ask,” he drawled.

“We had our first fight. That’s a major relationship milestone. This…this is serious.”

“We have quarreled before.”

“You weren’t slipping me your cock then,” she rolled her eyes. “We have staying power. This is going to work.”

“Be still my eager heart,” Severus shifted her slightly in his lap but did nothing to dethrone her. “What mutual achievement do I have to look forward to next?”

“Hmmm travelling together? Probably. A couple that can go on holiday without breaking up is a smart match…but you’re rushing ahead, darling. At the end of the argument comes the make-up sex.”

The treacherous witch gave him a lascivious look and wiggled provocatively in his lap. His cock was more treacherous still, dutifully swelling at the mere implication of Geraldine’s desire. Before his brain could completely lose control, Severus nudged her gently off him and onto her own feet. “What time is it?”

“I don’t think it’s even half past, yet,” she mused and glanced at her wristwatch again. “How far back would you like to go?”

Severus stood and straightened his robes, all business. “To just before curfew ends.”

“You wanna turn the dial?” she asked coyly, teasing him with a look up through her lashes as she withdrew the time turner from her robes. “It’s _super_ illegal. You wanna be _bad_?”

He kept his face impassive as she pressed the device into his palm, flesh warm from its resting place in her bosom. He tugged her gently forward using the chain her illicit treasure hung on. Geraldine’s arms came up around his middle as he inspected the mechanism. “How many turns will it require?”

“Each turn is a half hour.”

Severus counted out eight turns. Time gently ticked down to a full stop. Then the world shuddered around them and roared backward with increasing speed, like a lift plummeting downward to the lowest floor. A bird soared tailfeather-first past the window, speckles of dust zoomed about in upward spirals through the gleam of sunbeams which slanted through the window and then sloped away, sinking below the horizon before the universe wound down its backward cascade and came once more to rest.

Gerry plucked the time turner from his limp fingers and tucked it back into her blouse.

“Shall we?” she asked, moving toward the door. She made to swing it open, but Severus’ hand shot past her shoulder to slam it back shut. Giving her no time to react, he shoved her face first into the solid wood and descended upon her neck with ferocity. Gerry turned her head, allowing him to devour her mouth. He pressed the entire length of his body into her back, grinding his still-hard cock into her pert arse.

“Oh!” came her eloquent response.

“Silly girl,” he growled into her ear and relished her shudder. “I’ve always been bad.”

He stepped suddenly away from her, and she nearly fell over. With a wordless spell, he pinned her roughly to the door, holding her down with his power. She rewarded him with a shocked gasped and a wanton moan.

“Like that, do you?”

“Yes!” Geraldine’s enthusiastic reply made his cock throb.

“Then keeping you there won’t make for a suitable punishment, will it?”

“You’re gonna punish me?” she asked softly, turning her head only as far as his magic let her to try and catch a glimpse of him over her shoulder. Severus resumed his position behind her, pressed himself against her back and wrapped his fingers around her wrists. She whimpered prettily when he bit down on her earlobe and he whispered, “only if you beg for it.”

“Please,” she obliged immediately, shamelessly, “please, Sir. I’m so bad. I’ve been so bad. I need it. I deserve it.”

He groaned and indulged himself in thrusting his cock against her soft backside, bit softly along her neck and her shoulder.

“What time do I come back to start class?”

“Hnnh…” she moaned and struggled against his spell but could not move. Severus nibbled her ear again and relished the feeling of grinding into her through their clothes.

“What time, Gerry?”

“Ah, uh, nine? Four minutes to nine.”

He flipped up her skirt and pulled her panties aside. “We have three and a half hours,” he murmured and opened the fly of his trousers.

She whined as he slid inside, stretching her open as slowly as he could bear. Gerry’s fingertips dug into the wood of the door. Her sweet, wet pussy squeezed him tight. She continued begging as he bottomed out, and he had to stay the urge to just pound her. He fucked her as slowly as he’d entered her, enjoying the feeling of her total submission even as she struggled against the spell holding her in place. She urged him to go faster, harder. He denied her, ridding the wave of delirious pleasure it brought him.

Gerry unraveled under him, whimpering as she tried to arch back into him and could not.

“Tut tut, Miss Wright. Patience…” he murmured.

“Please! Oh fuck please, please I’m so close!” Geraldine begged. Her clothes were rumpled and her hair had become sweaty, most of the pins she’d put in earlier had been pulled out.

“You can come like this can’t you?” he whispered but slid one hand down the length of her body and around the front, palming a breast through her blouse before he dipped his fingers below the waistband of her skirt. He rubbed her clit through her panties and upped the pace of his hips ever so slightly.

“Please, Sir. Please, so close…” she cried as her body began to tremble.

Abruptly he stepped away from her, leaving her hanging against the door unfulfilled. She made a wounded noise and tried to look back at him.

“This is a punishment, love,” he purred. “Did you think I was going to let you come?”

“Oh god, oh my god,” she gasped and panted. Severus gave her a moment to come down, then ended his spell, catching her when she nearly crumpled. He pushed her damp hair away from her eyes and stroked her face.

“Alright? Think you can handle more?” he asked.

She smiled, “you aren’t even close to breaking me, sweetheart.”

A sharp jolt of pleasure lit through his stomach at her words. She sighed into his mouth, and he could hardly believe she was his. This was his and he was going to keep it.

“Good,” whispered against her lips, “we still have three hours until class it’s time for class.”

She shivered in his arms and looked up at him with overwhelming lust, “you think you’ve got the stamina to keep this up for three hours?”

He smirked and cupped her cheek. “I’m not the one whose stamina will be tested, Geraldine,” he promised her darkly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As the lady said, orange wallflowers mean "fidelity in adversity."
> 
> Here are the others Snape was considering,  
> Chrysanthemum, Red: I love you  
> Arbutus: thee ONLY do I love  
> Gardenia: purity, "you're lovely"  
> Jonquil: affection returned, desire, "love me"  
> Daffodil: respect, unrequited love


	12. EPILOGUE

EPILOGUE 

“Do I need to confiscate your wand?” Gerry teased him as they ascended the front steps.

“Do whatever you feel is necessary, my love, but be aware I am perfectly capable of maiming him without it.”

She laughed, “I’m sure you are. But remember, this is a party. We aren’t maiming people.”

While she knocked on the door he grumbled under his breath, “not much of a party, then.”

The door opened to reveal Ginny Potter’s smile-lined face. Seeing Mrs. Potter was not as startling as he thought it might be. The way all the children he’d known had suddenly become older than him was starting to lose its shock value.

She greeted Geraldine with a hug, then turned to her former professor. For a moment it looked as though she would try to embrace him as well, and Severus hastily extended the bottle of wine they’d brought as a shield in front of himself. Ginny smiled and accepted it politely with one hand, then threw her free arm about his shoulders to guide him inside. The sharp smile she gave him suggested she knew how uncomfortable he was.

“How are you both? It’s great to see you.”

“I’ve been better,” Severus told her. Ginny laughed and removed her arm, but not without patting his shoulder first.

“Been a while, Gerry. How are you?”

“Smashing,” Geraldine smiled. “Hungry. Do you need any help with dinner?”

“Nah, Angelina and I have it all under control,” Ginny assured them. “Please make yourselves at home. Luna and Neville are already here. So are Ron and ‘Mione.”

“The Minister for Magic herself? Maybe I can get her to pull some strings for me. I need the Magical Education department to-”

“Oi, Gerry. Have a drink and stop working for a few hours,” Ginny rolled her eyes, then looked to Severus. “Make sure she has fun, yeah?”

He tried not to smirk too broadly when he replied, “I usually do.”

Ginny laughed at the unexpected humor from the typically dower man and walked away, shaking her head. Severus removed Geraldine’s cloak and then his own, hanging them on the rack near the front door. Grimmauld Place resembled nothing of the Black Family home. There were no traces of sadness or neglect. The very walls seemed to exude domestic merriment. From down the hall, through the doorway he knew led to the sitting room, he could hear laughter. When he passed through there would it fade as it always had when he’d turned up for Order meetings? Surely, Potters invited him to be polite. None of them wanted his company.

Gerry rubbed a comforting hand up and down his back. She gave him a sympathetic little smile, “you can do this.”

“Of course I can,” he scoffed but stayed planted by the front door.

“You had a really good time when we visited the Malfoys yesterday,” she pointed out. “They’re all your friends, love. No need to worry.”

Before Severus could think of a suitable retort about Granger and Weasley being his friends, Harry leaned out of the doorway to the sitting room. When he saw them he gave a wide smile. “Professors! Happy Easter!”

“Happy Easter, Harry,” Gerry replied warmly, then pushed hard on Severus’ back until he started moving. 

“Harry,” Severus inclined his head to the man. Once they’d reached the doorway Harry clapped a hand on his shoulder, his smile flagging a bit at Severus’ cold expression.

Persistent as ever, Potter refused to back down. “It’s good to see you, Sir. You’re doing well, aren’t you?”

“He’s great!” Gerry answered for him, then pushed past the two men and disappeared into the room beyond. “Longbottoms, where’s the wine?”

“Alone at last,” Severus remarked icily. He’d waited for this. Had quite a lot of things to say to the insufferable man who’d brought him back to life by mistake, with little explanation and with gaping holes in the story he’d provided about what had happened in the world while Severus lay dead. Inexcusable, unforgivable holes. 

“Erm, sort of, I guess. Do we…need to step outside?” Potter asked quietly, eyes shining with disappointment.

“No, we do not,” Severus told him, and Potter relaxed.

“Look, I’m really sorry. I just didn’t know how-”

Severus held up a hand and Harry’s mouth clamped shut. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to make amends. Shall we?”

Harry smiled again and gestured for Severus to follow him into the room where all their friends were waiting to see him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much, everyone who has read, kudos and commented. I signed up for the Bang and started writing this in August because I wanted to prove to myself that I CAN finish what I start. If any of you enjoyed it, that's just icing on the cake. <3


	13. BONUS CHAPTER

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this scene but near the end couldn't decide where to fit it in. I didn't want to deprive ya'll so it's here as a bonus.

“Have you considered what you’re going to do over the summer?” Gerry asked one Sunday morning while they sipped coffee in bed.

For as many mornings as Severus spent in that bed in that bedroom before his death, he found the dungeons oppressive in a way they never had been then. He longed to throw open the windows and bathe them in early Spring sun, but there were none.

“Read,” he answered, meaning it honestly but pleased to be a little cryptic. He thought it would keep the mystery alive between them.

“Do you have a place?” she asked a little too casually between sips.

Severus set his mug aside and roughly yanked the bedsheets off her. She made a squeal of protest but allowed him to relieve her of her coffee and press her back into the pillows.

“My home was foreclosed upon after my death,” he answered, and set quickly upon distracting her with his mouth on her breasts. She looked far too tempting for them to waste their scant hours together with real estate talk. “I am in the market for a new one.”

“Hmmm well if you need a place to stay-” he covered her lips with his own to silence her invitation. As many times as he had stared death in the face, this conversation terrified him. It would be impossible to get through without irrevocably hurting her feelings, he was sure. And that would be an utter waste when things had been going so well.

“I assure you, if I have a _need_ ,” he whispered into her mouth and laid a hand on her knee to press her legs apart, “you shall be the first to know of it.”

She laughed and let him make love to her without further discussion of playing house, until later in the week as he flipped through the _Prophet_ in search of a vacant flat. This he did whilst overseeing mister James Potter’s most recent detention. The boy found his professors’ love life a source of endless amusement and having made too many untoward comments for Severus to continue feigning ignorance, he’d succumbed to prescribing punishment. And this time he was sure he’d come up with something the eldest Potter child couldn’t possibly enjoy: disemboweling salamanders for Professor Wright.

Gerry had dutifully surrendered the potions classroom for the evening but could not stop herself from occupying the adjoining office, apparently to supervise. Or perhaps because seeing Severus at his old desk gave her warm feelings of nostalgia. Potter looked up frequently between the former potions master and the open door to the office containing the current mistress. Though he could not see the woman from his seat in the classroom, Potter’s expression contained an irksome, knowing smugness. Severus wanted to be irritated with Gerry for hamstringing his perfect detention, but the way she kept looking at him from under lowered lashes suggested he might get blowjob when it was over. It made scorn nearly impossible to dredge up.

Even the promise of carnal ecstasy could not derail his mounting frustration with the housing market. By the time Potter left and Severus slammed the door behind him, a fearsome headache had manifested behind his eyes.

“Nothing good?” Geraldine asked, wisely keeping a chaste distance. Merlin knew she wouldn’t be able to for long, insatiable witch.

“Not unless a large pile of gold were to suddenly appear in my lap…and if it did I expect I’d have to fight you for it,” he gave her what he hoped was a playfully suspicious expression, just to see if she’d laugh. She gratified him with a small smile, and it served to ease the pain in his cranium ever so slightly. “I’d hoped I might be able to rent, but even that appears outside this meager academic’s salary.”

Gerry sat herself on the corner of her desk nearest him and laid a hand on his shoulder, “have you considered taking a loan?”

“I dearly hope you are not offering me money,” he said tightly, mirth rapidly evaporating.

“No, I wouldn’t insult you with my muggle inheritance,” she rolled her eyes, “I was thinking more of a _bank_.”

Severus sighed, “yes, I suppose I will have to. What on Earth prompted such inflation while I was in the ground?”

Gerry winced, “peace, probably. War is always better for the economy….hey, this conversation is getting boring. Take down your trousers.”

He gave her a _look_. He wasn’t about to expose himself. Not the first time she asked, anyway. “Forgive me for boring you with my property woes. I wouldn’t expect a- a _mobile technology_ heiress to understand.”

She gave him a proud look, pleased he’d remembered the proper wording this time, and stroked his jaw. “You’ll get a loan, and you can take your time choosing the perfect place…and you can stay with me while you look…”

Severus resisted the urge to brush her hand away or pinch the bridge of his nose as the headache threatened resurgence. “ _Geraldine_ …”

“ _Severus_. I’m not proposing marriage. I’m giving you an excuse to sleep in my bed for three months.”

“And if we—” _break up?_ He could not say because it implied he was her… _boyfriend_ , “—quarrel?”

She rolled her eyes, “I’m sure you can afford a hotel. Or you can go stay with Draco and Scorpius. Or the Potters,” she smiled, stroked his jaw and gave him such an earnest look queasy pleasure twisted in his gut. “I’m not going to kick you out after an argument. We already had one and everything turned out alright, remember?”

Severus allowed himself a moment to take a long, slow breath and exhale.

“And when I find a place of my own, your feelings won’t be hurt when I move out? You’re not fostering some asinine, girlish hope I’ll simply decide to make my stay permanent?”

Gerry took her own slow breath, let her hand drop back int her lap. She leaned back to let the space between them open up. A thoughtful look on her face, she spoke slowly, “I don’t know if I will want you to want to stay permanently. We haven’t tried living together…this doesn’t count,” she said meaningfully when he opened his mouth to ask what she thought they’d been doing.

“I suppose it does not,” he agreed carefully.

“Severus, I’ve had a husband. I’m not opposed to having one again, but I’m not in a desperate rush.”

“Who said anything about me being your _husband_?” he said a little sharper than he’d intended. He tried to reign in the spite audible in his tone, but was unsuccessful. “I have no intention of marrying. _Ever_.”

“I mean, you sort brought it up by asking if I was hoping you’d stay permanently…as in _forever_.”

“I meant…” He couldn’t disagree with her assessment. That _was_ what he had meant. “You have mentioned marriage by name twice in two minutes, and you expect me to believe that is not your ultimate aim.”

“Yes. I mentioned it specifically to tell you it is _not_ why I’m offering.” Gerry gave him a sharp look that was all understanding and no accusation. “All I want is to get you alone where we won’t be interrupted constantly by children.”

He fiddled restlessly with his shirt cuffs. He believed her. Of course she wasn’t trying to ensnare him. She was having fun with him. He felt embarrassed for having assumed otherwise. It made him look like he was the one preoccupied with marriage. Ridiculous.

“Very well. If I am unable to obtain housing prior to the end of term, I will stay with you…for as long as it suits us,” he chose his words carefully, and quickly added, “until I find something for myself.”

“Lovely,” Gerry agreed, and slipped off the desk and onto her knees before him. “ _Now_ will you take down your trousers?”

He did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END!


End file.
